


Melancholy Echoes

by Dagonet (AgentDagonet)



Series: Echoes [2]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Dead Harry Hart, Eggsy learns to be a whole human, alternate ending for Echoes, learning to be a person, or hologram, whatever, with the help of Harry the friendly ghost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:29:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21540655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentDagonet/pseuds/Dagonet
Summary: The alternate to Echoes.The first Chapter bit is basically a repost of Echoes, up until Ch. 12, with the ending changed. If you've read Echoes, feel free to skip until 'in the depths of Kingsman' (basically the last 4 paragraphs of the first chapter are the new stuff, and then chapter 2)I decided it was better to post the altered bit as a oneshot instead of chapters, but I can reformat if that's what you'd prefer!
Relationships: Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Merlin & Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Series: Echoes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1548685
Comments: 9
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

### Chapter 1

He avoided wearing his suits and glasses inside, feeling too much like an echo of a far greater man. The guest room's closet was filled with his trainers and chav wear, all things that Merlin wrinkled his nose at when he came to base, but he couldn't get himself to wear the suits day to day. It just wasn't who he was, though he'd look and act the part for work.

That's why, the first time Eggsy went straight to his (Harry's) house after a particularly difficult mission in Australia (the heat was almost worse than the prick he'd had to take down), he'd done nothing more than trudge sluggishly to his (Harry's) room and collapse. Hair still slightly matted with sweat and blood, glasses askew, oxfords still tied on his feet, and his face squashed upon a pillow he'd barely managed to land on.

Waking was never much fun for Eggsy- he either woke to the echoes of his screams or the blaring ring of his phone summoning him for another mission. The world had gone tits up after V-Day, and every agent was needed and on call at all hours- he hadn't seen his mum and Daisy since the day he got them tucked safely away from Dean. So waking up because his nose ached was a pleasant, if confusing, experience. Eggsy sat up slowly, stretching his arms high above his head and rubbing at the bridge of his nose, jostling the glasses that still remained. He pulled them off, rubbing at his eyes blearily, and put them back on- he'd still need to go to the guest closet to get his _real_ digs, and Merlin would outright skin him if he broke another pair of specs. Feet dangling off the edge of the bed, hands still resting on the earpieces of his glasses, Eggsy opened his eyes.

And promptly shut them again, screwing them shut like a child who had the distinct misfortune of biting into a raw lemon. Breathing harshly in his nose and out his mouth, trying to stave off whatever delusional panic had befallen him, Eggsy reopened his eyes.

'Harry?' He was identical to those holograms that he saw in the Dining Room during meetings, and wholly impossible. The projections that Kingsman used to have every Knight at a meeting were done in real time, they were some sort of Star Wars level Skype call or something, and Harry had been dead for over a year now. They'd had a funeral, buried an (empty) coffin, Eggsy had (not) mourned him and taken his place at the table with the (faked) aplomb of a proper Kingsman.

'Ah, Eggsy. Now, I know this must be quite a shock for you-' He rose from the bed, approaching what could only be a mirage with wide eyes and bated breath.

'You've no idea, Harry, I-'

'But I need you to listen very carefully to my instructions. Can you do that for me, Eggsy?' It had continued, talking right over Eggsy as if he hadn't heard him. Which would make sense, considering Harry was _dead_ and thus couldn't _possibly_ be talking to him in real time. Nonetheless, Eggsy nodded, the eyes of the hologram following the gesture before it, too, nodded and strode from the room. Eggsy followed him, steps precise and even with a serenity he did not feel, down the hall to the Office. The door was closed, but Harry didn't even pause, walking through it as if it were not there.

This gave Eggsy a moment to breathe, to step back and really think about what he was about to do. He was going to follow Harry's orders from beyond the grave. There was no chance that someone had hacked into Harry's private servers, hell Merlin _still_ couldn't get in and there was no biometric security to blame, so this was something that had to have always been there. Harry had made it, or at least installed it here, and that was enough for Eggsy; he steeled himself before entering the room, pausing briefly in the doorjamb as he turned the handle.

'Now, I'm not sure how long it has been since I died, Eggsy, but there should be a key pad behind the cover about a werewolf found in Southend, if it's still up. If it isn't, then you've likely redecorated for yourself and seen the keypad anyway, the code is 121997.'

'Oxfords, not brogues.' Eggsy whispers to himself, typing the code with a shaking hand. Of course. Of fucking course it was. What else could it be, with Harry "everything I've done has been trying to repay him" Hart at the helm?

'Quite. Now after that there would normally be an eye scan but being dead puts a damper in that and I certainly hope you don't have my eyes floating in a jar somewhere, so you'll have to override. Your override phrase, Eggsy, is "like in My Fair Lady" precisely the way you said it the first time. You're lucky I had my glasses on at the time; making a passcode like this without an actual recording is bloody difficult."

It wasn't that Eggsy didn't remember how he said it, or that he couldn't parrot it if he tried, but that the words were stuck halfway up in his throat. _His_ override. Harry had thought him important enough to have an override in something locked so tight _Merlin_ couldn't break into it. Even after everything that had happened between them. He said it, feeling oddly foolish, and the corner by the door opened, revealing a tall stack of external hard drives and a plethora of wires.

'Each of the hard drives has a separate function, though luckily for you they are not individually locked. If you look atop the stack there is an envelope, and within that is my personal network password.' Reaching up, Eggsy brushed his fingertips along the edge, knocking off the envelope in question. It was the kind of thing you'd make wedding invitations out of, all posh, and trust Harry to use such stationary for something as mundane as this. When he picked it up, however, the seams of the envelope loosened themselves without prompting, a small hissing noise escaping from the gaps.

'The fuck?! Harry, paper ain't supposed to hiss like that. Or at all, actually.'

'Ah. Yes. Kingsman card stock, Eggsy. If someone besides you or Merlin were to handle that, it would have burned the contents; incredibly useful. If you punch that code into my laptop- if you've removed it then there's a spare in the vault with the hard drives- it should unlock everything.'

Eggsy had stopped listening some point after Harry had said only he and Merlin could have held this information. Harry had given him the key to his life, posthumous as it was; a key that only he and Merlin held. Well, technically only he held it at the moment- he'd have to pass it on to Merlin when he could convince his mouth to work. His fingertips to do more than brush themselves reverently over the envelope's seams- loose but not yet opened. His heart to slow down to a beat more akin to nightclub song than a hummingbird's wings.

He needed to get out of there.

### Chapter 2

Thank fuck he'd left the door open, or he would surely have run into it head first. As it was he had barely turned the corner before sliding down the wall, envelope still clutched to his chest like a child's teddy after a nightmare. His other hand ran through his hair shakily, pulling slightly in a poor attempt to ground him while he shattered. Tears fell like rain to the floor. Breathing came too shallow, too quick; too like lightning with none of the gratifying thunder after.

Lord knows how long he spent there, legs splayed out and chest heaving, but eventually Eggsy had run out of tears to shed. He had bitten his lips to the point of bleeding to keep silent (a habit he hadn't broken from years of hiding from Dean) and was more drained than he had felt since the day he killed Valentine. Yet the day had barely begun, and there was so much work to be done. He had to get into the system, see what the hell Harry wanted from beyond the grave, and hope to all that was holy that Merlin wouldn't call him in. But first he needed to feel human.

He'd left Harry in the Office, seated in front of the desk just as Eggsy had the night after the Train test. Would he have been sitting midair if Eggsy had redecorated the Office? The chair certainly hadn't been blue like the rest of him; and come to think of it how did the other agents always manage to have the perfect height table and chair when they hologrammed in for meetings? Were there just endless amounts of them scattered across the globe for Kingsman use?

It was all sounding a bit like that 'is there an endless chain of mailmen who deliver mail to other mailmen?' bit from Spongebob.

'C'mon Eggsy. You can't let him down _again_.' He shook himself, trying to clear his head of the nonsense that had filled it, intending to grab the envelope and go back to the Office.

'You can do this.' His arms wouldn't move. He took a deep breath.

'You _need_ to do this.' He could feel the medal he still wore resting against his chest, and closed his eyes before he reached a hand out blindly and picked up the envelope.

Had anyone asked him, Eggsy wouldn’t have been able to tell them how he made it to the Office from there. The feel of the cardstock, as solid and sure in his hand as any gun, was the only thing he knew. The door was still open, and the desk still sat where it always had. Sure there were new papers upon it, and Harry’s laptop had been put in a vault at HQ months ago, but not a day had gone by where he did not remember Harry sitting there, instructing him on how to be a proper gentleman. Starting with etiquette and proper martinis and ending with pleasant buzzes and laughter. Not that he’d really taught him how to make a _proper_ martini, merely one suited to his tastes. Eggsy had taken to calling it a Hart in his head- an exact opposite to Bond, funnily enough- not that he’d be telling anyone.

Mourning someone you’d known for such a short time, objectively, was fine for a few months- but a year or so on and suddenly the people who told you to let yourself mourn are telling you to get the hell over it. Maybe not in those exact words, but the pointed looks and aversion got the point across well enough. There were exceptions, of course- Merlin was obviously still nursing his own wounds, and Roxy did nothing but sit there silently as he poured his heart out. Usually over a pint or two, but always in relative privacy- his mum didn’t count; wasn’t like she knew who he was blubbering on about anyway.

Eggsy sat at the desk a moment, gathering himself in the hopes of repeating the night before’s actions without Harry’s help. Speaking of-

‘Harry?’ He was nowhere to be found, the chair empty of even a shadow.

Had he dreamt it? Had he imagined Harry telling him how to get this information? Had Harry’s ghost come back from beyond to give Eggsy this information and then fuck off to who knows where?

Was he dreaming now?

‘If this is a dream at least it’s a calm one- I’ve got enough nightmares to last a lifetime, thanks.’ Eggsy muttered to himself, getting up from the desk and leaving the envelope behind. Pulling up the corner of the cover about the werewolf, he punched in the numbers far more quickly than he had earlier and spoke clearly in the moments after. Wall opened, keypad hidden away again, Eggsy pulled out the spare laptop from the vault. It was obviously an older model, heavier and thicker than anything he’d seen in years- and the boot up time gave him enough time to walk around, do a little dance, make a sandwich; and even then it wasn’t done. He’d done the whole process over again, oddly grateful to have the excuse to eat- even if that excuse was to waste time.

‘The _fuck?_ Harry, bruv, your screen’s gone blank. What do I do?’ Surely he’d answer- Eggsy couldn’t very well do anything if he didn’t have instructions, could he? And something told him this was something he shouldn’t improvise with, so he was stuck. He rubbed a hand down is face, pinching the aching bridge of his nose and hoping for a miracle, before freezing in place.

Oh. _Oh._ Of _course._

He jumped up, dashing back to the guest room, and wrenched open the drawer of his dresser that he kept his Kingsman specs in. Of _course_ he had to have the damn things on- Harry had never gone far without them and they certainly added to the security of the information at hand. Practically slamming them back upon his face (his nose certainly didn’t thank him for it) Eggsy walked briskly back to the Office.

The screen wasn’t blank anymore, instead asking for a password, which prompted Eggsy to actually open the envelope he had practically been caressing.

**_30.07.81 superior to your former self_ **

****

‘Shit, mate; you really liked your Hemingway, didn’t you? Wonder what the date’s for...’ Eggsy muttered to himself, slowly typing in the password.

‘Well, to be perfectly frank, it’s more the one quote than the man himself. I found him rather uninspired with few notable exceptions. And the date is the date of my first mission as a Kingsman Agent- the cover I pointed out that night is from the day after.’ Harry replied, voice seeming to emanate from the walls themselves, causing Eggsy to startle and nearly fall from the Office chair. Holo-Harry (well he wasn’t the real thing, was he, so calling him just Harry was odd) was still seated in the office chair, cool as you please, arms relaxed upon his lap.

‘Okay, I’m in, now what? Also, lemme tell you that this background of Mr. Pickle is way cuter than the stuffed thing downstairs.’ It helped keep him calm, chatting like nothing was wrong, but it wasn’t as if he was lying. What was obviously a much younger Mr. Pickle was sleeping upon a sofa, splayed on his back and tongue lolling out, in what was an obviously scanned photo and not originally a digital one. Harry himself was also asleep in the photo, head resting upon the arm of the sofa and one arm curled beneath his head. He wondered who had taken the photo, who had immortalised this moment of vulnerability, before his thoughts were jarred by Harry’s voice.

‘Eggsy, I need you to do a general search of the files on the network- the backup laptop sorts through things in a different way than the newer one- for the word “serendipity.” Ordinarily it would be under something a bit more realistic but we don’t have the option of being ordinary in our line of work. And call me a paranoid bastard, but even with all of this security in place... I found it better to hide the file more discretely.’

‘Harry, the fuck ‘m I doing in here?’ Eggsy was waiting for the search to load, the old interface seeming to take longer to do this than it did to boot up in the first place, staring blankly through the pale blue Harry that was sat in front of him. He felt drained, he felt done in, and it was incredibly likely (absolutely positive) that this was only going to get more exhausting as time went on. The least he deserved, after following these instructions so blindly and the breakdown he had had, was to know what he was doing here.

‘You’re going to fulfil the final wishes of a long dead man, Eggsy. The file you’re searching for is my last will and testament, last updated on the day of your final test towards becoming Lancelot- which I’m sure you passed splendidly, by the way. Congratulations, Lancelot- I am so proud of you.’

### Chapter 3

The world had stopped spinning some time ago, yet somehow reality had not collapsed; well, it kind of had, but not in a literal sense. The floor was still solid beneath him, the chair still firm against his back, his heart still pounding in his chest- but there was no air to breathe. The world had narrowed and blanked out and all Eggsy could hear was the name echoing in his head.

_Lancelot_ this Harry thought he was _Lancelot_ and that meant that this Harry hadn't been disappointed in him. This was a Harry from before Eggsy'd fucked up the best thing life had handed to him. Before he'd stolen Arthur's car to try and beat the shit outta Dean, before they'd argued, before... before the church.

This was a Harry who hadn't told Eggsy that everything he'd done had been trying to repay his father- but that didn't make it any less true.

Breathing deeply through his nose and out his mouth, Eggsy came back to himself- screen now opened to a relatively average looking search box with one result. The source file seemed to be within a folder of sappy poetry, and the title certainly did nothing to disabuse that notion, but Harry _had_ said that it was hidden discreetly.

"Eggsy, I know it may seem a bit much with how shortly we knew one another, but you must know how much I cared for you. Goodness speaking in the past tense is irksome. Of course all of this started because of your father, and the debt I don't think I've ever fully repaid him, but you're an extraordinary man in your own right as well. I'm sorry that I won't get to see you as the agent you've become, Lancelot.

"Now then, as you hopefully know Wills are usually executed by next-of-kin, or lawyers, but Kingsman agents don't have outside lawyers, and I've no family of my own. Thus, the responsibility has fallen to you, one of the most important people in my life- sorry, you have to share that position with Merlin. Being friends for nearly twenty years earns a title like that; you got it in a thousand other ways."

Eggsy rubbed his eyes, shoving his glasses against his forehead, and exhaled sharply. He’d already had one mental breakdown, thanks, he didn’t need another. He was right chuffed to hear that Harry thought so highly of him- but it also meant that he’d fallen _that much_ farther when he’d failed the dog test.

The Will itself wasn’t all that long, surprisingly, for all that Harry had owned. It was expressly noted that the house was not Kingsman property, as he’d actually bought the house outright instead of just allowing Kingsman to gift it to him; he had been quite (rebellious) the free-spirit in his youth. He didn’t like being indebted to anyone, even a prestigious organisation like Kingsman; Eggsy could only imagine how much his Dad’s sacrifice had eaten at Harry over the years.

The house, with its creepy butterflies, stuffed dog in the loo, and far-too-expensive-and-large-for-a-bachelor dining table, was officially Eggsy’s. For half a delirious heartbeat he contemplated selling it, barely able to comprehend it actually _belonging_ to him. This place was still Harry’s; his clothing still sat in the antique dresser, his toiletries still lined the shelves in the upstairs loo, his umbrella was still hanging from the stand in the Office. Eggsy hadn’t had the heart to change a thing when he first started living here- some small part of him still hoped that it would all be temporary.

This didn’t change anything, not really. Except maybe the fact that he wouldn’t upset Harry’s ghost for moving the furniture. Not that he was hoping for that, or anything.

The rest of the Will was pretty basic: weapons returned to HQ, Mr. Pickle to be dusted every week or so, add the Sun cover from his deathday to his collection- whether it was in a box or on a wall... But none of these things was the reason Eggsy hadn’t been able to bring himself to call Merlin now that he had all this information.

Harry had made sure that his money, his personal funds and family’s wealth, went to Eggsy. He’d been made the heir of Harry’s not-so-insignificant estate. There was a number, one he couldn’t fully grasp, and a list of properties (some of which were noted as being rented out, with directions to contact the Hart solicitor for options) and Eggsy was overwhelmed. He sent a copy of the Will to Merlin, still reeling, before shutting down the computer.

‘Eggsy,’ Harry was still seated where he had left him the night before, ‘it should all be pretty straight forward. I don’t have any other family, and I’ve never been one for tradition or rules, so the estate and trappings should all be in proper order. I do hope you’ll benefit more from them than I ever did. You can take the silver spoon from a man’s arse, as you’d say, but you can’t erase its existence entirely.’

‘But, why? Why me? You’d known me, what, a handful of months before you went and died on me? The fuck did I do that was so special? You were fucking _loaded_ bruv!’

‘To be perfectly frank you’ve been the intended beneficiary to my will since your father died. Though I _did_ change “Eggsy” to “Gary” for formalities sake, but that doesn’t alter the intent. Kingsman wasn’t going to do much for your family, in the wake of Lee’s death. I thought that was unfair- I had to fight Arthur fiercely to give your mother the medal in the first place; it’s usually reserved for the families of actual agents.’

Eggsy, far past the point of overwhelmed, dully imagined what his life would have been like without that medal.

Nothing would have changed in the beginning; there’d still be Dean, and he’d still have fucked up- probably more, actually, without that talisman of his father’s sacrifice. That reminder had stopped him from running away from home when Dean had hit him for the first time. It had reminded him that his dad had died for something when he had contemplated suicide, silently convincing him not to die for nothing. It had done so much more than give him the hope that, if things got bad enough, he had a way out. It had somehow managed to keep his sanity intact through everything.

Without that medal, he’d have ended up in prison after crashing Rottie’s car. He’d have popped back out 18 months later, probably more than a bit messed up in the head, and come home to... what? His mum and Daisy, more than a bit black and blue from Dean’s rage having no other outlet? Daisy possibly talking up a fucking storm and walking about and he’d have missed it all. Maybe his mum wouldn’t have survived the 18 months without him to shield her. He didn’t want to imagine anything worse than that.

‘I missed something that day, Eggsy; I missed a grenade that could have killed Merlin, and James, and your dad, and myself. All of us, gone, because of a mistake I made.’ The pale blue form sighed, pushing his glasses up slightly and pinching the bridge of his nose, ‘I never told you this, Eggsy, but your father pushed me out of the way that day. I intended to throw myself atop Falcon, the target, and absorb the blow. Lee pushed me back before leaping upon the man himself. He was more Kingsman material than any other candidate I’ve seen, personally.’ Harry’s hand lowered, and pushed his glasses back into place, looking down at his lap with a look that could only be called resigned.

‘I doubt I’d ever be able to repay that debt, honestly; even if I’d managed to live a hundred years I don’t think there’s any real way to make up for something like that. I could never have replaced him, or brought him back; I could never fix what it was my mistake had broken. But I thought that your family, at the very least, deserved something a bit more tangible than some unnamed favour from a mysterious organisation that would not even give you the closure to properly move on. I never expected for you and I to become acquainted or, honestly, to live as long as I did. Fifty-four is an astonishingly large number, considering how reckless I was on missions. Merlin probably has some stories for you, if you can convince him to reminisce for a bit.’

Eggsy printed a copy of the Will before shutting down the computer. He’d sat there and asked Harry “why” several dozen times over, in his desperation to hear more, but all it had done was repeat the same speech over and over and over again. Someday, maybe, it would be something he’d treasure- the speech that he’d likely have memorised by then, the last things he’d hear from Harry.

After all, now that Eggsy had handled the Will, why would Holo-Harrry stick around?

### Chapter 4

‘Eggsy, what’s this?’ The glasses had rung, and Eggsy put them on. Merlin chimed through the glasses a couple hours after Eggsy’d sent the e-mail, startling Eggsy from where he’d been staring blankly at a door. In his hands is the hard copy of Harry’s Will, the edges slightly bent from his fidgeting as he prepared to walk into the solicitor’s office that Harry had instructed.

‘I’d think it was obvious, Merlin. It’s Harry’s Will- I mean, it fucking says so at the top of the text. “This is the final will and testament of Harry Alan Hart” and I mean, honestly, don’t it seem like his parents were having a bit of a laugh with his initials?’

‘Eggsy, how did you get this? There isn’t one on file here- I would know- and he didn’t leave one with a solicitor so _where did this come from?’_

‘His computer, genius. Which is in his house. I live there? You berated me about sentimentality when I asked for it? Ringing any bells?’ Eggsy lost his nerve, walking away from the solicitor’s office and back towards the house. The weather, while dreary, wasn’t all that awful and a walk sounded lovely. Get his mind back in order; pull himself together enough to function again now that the whole hologram business was done with. He half wishes he’d said goodbye before walking out, some form of closure to the whole debacle, but hindsight is 20/20 as they say. He couldn’t live his life with those kinds of regrets.

He’d seen what living in the past had done to his mum- he wasn’t going to go down the same road. Not if he could help it.

‘Don’t get smart with me, lad- where did you get this?’ Eggsy can tell that Merlin’s getting frustrated- not at all surprising, considering how long it’d been since V-Day.

‘I ain’t bein’ smart with you, Merlin. Well, maybe a little, but I’m telling the truth. Got it right off his computer- an older one- and sent it right off to you, while sitting at his desk. In his office. Don’t even pretend like you don’t know I haven’t moved much of anything around in there.’

‘That doesn’t answer how you got in to his private network, Eggsy. You and I both know the laptop I have here is empty.’

‘Well you’re not askin’ the right questions, bruv.’ Eggsy smirks to himself, for all the world feeling the cat who caught the canary. He knew something Merlin didn’t, he had the upper hand for what would probably be the first and last time, AND he got to mess with Merlin a bit. ‘So, what do you want to know?’ He could practically envision Merlin’s fingers scratching at his scalp, palms running down his face, doing his damnedest not to snap at him. Moments like these were what Eggsy _lived_ for, within Kingsman; saving the world is nice but you gotta be happy, too, y’know?

‘Okay, Eggsy, I’ll bite- _how_ did you get Harry’s Will?’

‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

‘Eggsy I swear to-‘

‘- So I’ll meet you at my place at quarter to five? It’s way more show than tell, mate. Bring your specs.’

‘... Fine. I’ll see you then.’ Merlin huffed, and Eggsy put the glasses back into his pocket. He never went far without them, nowadays, cos Kingsman Agents are _always_ on call. Just another reason to distance himself a bit from his mum and Daisy; there’s only so many emergencies a tailor can have, after all, before his mum would probably start bangin’ on about losing him again.

If she thought she’d win with the same argument twice she was in for one hell of a surprise. Dean was out of the picture (he’d begged a favour from Merlin and gotten him the hard time he deserved) so there wouldn’t any real gravitas if she kicked up a fuss.

Eggsy made his way home (and wasn’t it odd to think of it as actually _his_ ) and put the laptop back into the wall vault, locking everything up tight. He wanted Merlin to get the whole experience of interacting with Holo-Harry, if it worked like that.

He hoped it worked like that, oddly enough; he wanted to share this with Merlin. They were probably the two people most hurt by Harry’s death, both of them still reeling in their own ways. At least that’s what Eggsy assumed was going on, with Merlin never leaving HQ and the deep bags beneath his eyes that made obvious how little he was taking care of himself. Merlin seemed too intelligent to run himself ragged like that on the regular- exhaustion is downright life-risking in their line of work.

Eggsy kind of wished they were actually _mates_ so he could tell Merlin to fuck off home to get some rest without feeling like a total idiot. Eggsy certainly didn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of his glares- maybe he’d drug his tea instead. Sure, he’d end up on a mission on the other end of the globe for a while, but maybe he’d get the point.

Roxy would totally be up for it; she was the best partner in crime he could ask for.

By the time Merlin actually showed up (he was perfectly on time, Eggsy was the one expecting him to have somehow popped into existence every time he turned a corner) Eggsy had dusted Mr. Pickle, deciding that the sooner the better for getting used to handling it, and left him on the dining table.

Which was totally worth the face that Merlin made upon entering the house, blank and shocked, before sighing to himself and properly greeting Eggsy. He looked odd without the glasses on, something Eggsy hadn’t expected- he could’ve sworn that Merlin needed them to see, prescription and everything, but maybe he was wrong. Either way, Eggsy gestured silently upstairs. Merlin got the hint, and together they went to the Office.

‘Alright, Merlin, go ahead and put your glasses on.’ They both did so, and Merlin’s hands fell limply to his sides, his jaw hanging open for a moment before he pulled himself together. Eggsy thought it was quite likely that Merlin had forgotten he was in the room completely; his attention entirely focused on the chair Eggsy had left Harry in last.

‘Harry?’ The hologram flickered a little, and when it came back into being it was standing, hands held behind his back by the wrist. Incredibly formal.

‘Merlin, if you’re seeing this it means I haven’t been able to override. This won’t be activated unless I’ve been out of commission for at least eight months. With very little exception, you seeing this means that I’ve died and you’ve finally convinced yourself to come and clean this place up. There’s no need for a museum in my honour, old friend, unless it’s to showcase the mistakes I’ve made and how to avoid them. Even then, all of this physical stuff is really unnecessary; just have a list of things I did incorrectly and write “DON’T” next to them, frame it in your office, I think that will get the point across well enough.’

‘You daft bastard, you know as well as I do that you helped far more people than you ever harmed.’

‘Tell that to the butterflies, Merlin.’

‘Oh go spew your cockshite to your Sun covers, that’s what they’re there for.’

‘If you’re done arguing with a dead man, Merlin, I think it’s high time you gain access to my private servers. Mind, this will only work in the house, so you’ll have to be smart with what you do with your time. This house won’t be empty much longer.’

For Eggsy it was an incredibly enlightening experience, watching Holo-Harry interact with Merlin. It was strangely formal, despite the jokes interspersed. Maybe it was so that Merlin wouldn’t feel obligated to interact with it for too long? Maybe there was more to what was being said than Eggsy could understand- what was Merlin supposed to tell the butterflies? What were the Sun covers supposed to do besides showcase successful missions?

Merlin’s lips were pursed, eyes angry, and Eggsy realised that for all that Merlin was holding himself together on the outside he was deeply affected by this. Eggsy decided that, after this was done, they’d both put the specs away and have a well earned drink. They probably wouldn’t talk at all, but it would help. Hopefully.

‘Now then, Merlin, there’s a keypad behind the cover from the first time you were my official Handler. I didn’t like you much, then, surprise surprise- but we worked it out in the end, didn’t we? The passcode is the day that Lee died during the Lancelot trials.’

‘Sentimental bastard,’ Merlin’s fingers breezed across they keypad without looking, the numbers obviously a familiar cadence, and Eggsy wondered how often the two of them (and maybe the previous Lancelot?) used them as codes or signals.

‘Quite. After that would normally be a retinal scan. I’m under the assumption that you do _not,_ in fact, have my eyes in a jar somewhere in HQ but if I am wrong _do not bring them._ They won’t do you any good. Luckily for you I have a verbal passcode set- and you’ll have to use the same inflection you had the first time you said it. It would be quite useless otherwise, anyone could wander in here spewing nonsense until they happened upon the right phrase and then where would we be? Well, where would _you_ be, I’m dead. Anyway, your passcode is “Fuck you, Harry, I liked that jumper.” And yes, I do mean precisely the way you said it the _first_ time.’ Eggsy wondered how many of Merlin’s jumpers Harry had ruined; and how long ago the first one had met its end at Harry’s hand.

Eggsy was expecting Merlin to yell, or maybe whisper a la “get that chip off your shoulder;” what Eggsy was _not_ expecting was for Merlin to leave the room.

### Chapter 5

For a moment Eggsy contemplated leaving the Office, to give Merlin some form of privacy, but by the time he’s convinced himself Merlin had come back into the room with a shoebox and locked eyes with him. They didn’t exchange words, the silence too sacred to shatter, but if Eggsy understands one thing from the exchange it’s not to leave; that Merlin cannot handle this if he’s truly alone. The illusion is welcome, but the reality would be too much, so Eggsy sits himself upon the floor next to the umbrella stand. He’d say he was guarding something, if the danger was coming from the outside, but the only wounds today would be emotional and far more difficult to recover from.

It’s a box that Eggsy has never seen before, so it had probably been hidden in Harry’s bedroom, with all of the things Eggsy couldn’t himself to do more than keep clean. Merlin placed it on the corner of the desk, not once glancing at Holo-Harry, and pried it open like it was Pandora’s box.

‘I can’t believe you kept this, after all these years.’ From the box, Merlin pulled what would only in its loosest definition be called a jumper. It may have been nice once, but it was charred at the edges and obviously stained by blood in several places- it was even missing half a sleeve. It was also several sizes smaller than Merlin was, and Eggsy desperately wanted to know the story behind it. Merlin was absentmindedly rubbing the thin fabric between his fingers, much the same way Eggsy had caressed the cardstock, and staring blankly through Holo-Harry.

‘Fuck you, Harry... I _liked_ that jumper.’ Eggsy hadn’t known Merlin could sound so fragile, so close to shattering. It was everything Eggsy hadn’t ever wanted to hear, a Merlin broken, and he suddenly didn’t need to know the story behind the jumper- he wasn’t sure he wanted to know a story that involved that much pain. Yet when the older man turned his head towards the sound of the wall opening, his eyes were dry and no more emotional than they had been at the start of this, but they were glazed.

‘What the _fuck_ is all of this, you ridiculous pillock?’

‘It’s the result of years of paranoia. Now, at the very top of the stack of hard drives and processors is a folded bit of Kingsman cardstock- yes, I took the prototype, and since I’m dead you can’t do anything about it. So there. At least we know that it works.’ Merlin curses the dead man under his breath, grabbing the already opened cardstock and old laptop from the wall and seating himself at the desk.

Eggsy spent his time watching the Hologram, seeing its eyes follow wherever Merlin faced. When Merlin had said his passcode it had seemed sad, lips downturned, and he wondered how Harry had programmed the thing. He certainly had to have spent years working on it, it was far too detailed, but the glasses thing. How? He shrugged to himself, back rubbing against the wall- barely making a sound but somehow deafening in the silence.

Merlin doesn’t notice, his attention is wholly focused on the laptop. He doesn’t bother asking Harry what he’s looking for; he doesn’t say _anything_ , actually, just sits there clicking at things Eggsy cannot see. Eggsy decides he’s not needed as whatever buffer he would have been now that the direct interaction with Holo-Harry was over with.

‘Merlin, I know it may seem odd, but there is something _not_ in the Will that I would like to ask of you.’ The typing stops and Merlin looks up; Holo-Harry is leaning against the desk by both hands, looming towards Merlin- Eggsy cannot see his face, but Merlin can. Merlin nods, seemingly unwilling to speak but perhaps he is simply unable. Eggsy would certainly be shocked and probably a tad frightened of Harry Hart looming over him- hologram or otherwise.

‘I need you to do what I cannot, Merlin. I don’t know if Eggsy passed the dog test, and I do not need to know if he is a Knight now or not to know that I need you to watch out for him.’ Eggsy is frozen. Of all the things he had expected to learn from observing Merlin’s run through of the Holo-Harry system, this wasn’t even in the realm of possibility. He expected to learn something more about he and Merlin’s friendship, he expected to maybe have to comfort a crying Merlin, but never this.

This was something that Eggsy was never supposed to know. He wasn’t entirely sure how to react, but knew that he was frozen where he sat. This was something that Harry had entrusted to Merlin post-mortem with no way to know he would do so outside of trust.

‘I know it might seem like common sense that you would, or an unnecessary addition to my Will, but I felt this was something that needed to be said aloud. I know that I never felt like I’d properly repaid Lee his sacrifice, and my meeting he and James beyond doesn’t change that.’ Holo-Harry’s voice sounded frustrated, and Eggsy can nearly picture the look on Harry’s face. Like the anger that day in the downstairs loo, but not directed outward.

‘You did what you could with what you had, Harry.’ Merlin sounds tired, like this is an argument that they’ve had repeatedly and he’s merely filling the blanks. An endless argument that can’t ever be settled because of how deeply set the roots of guilt are.

‘As often as you repeat that I still don’t believe it.’

‘Michelle refused assistance, Harry- and then you gave the medal to a _child_ who didn’t even know how to operate a phone. Are you really surprised?’

‘I could have sneaked money to them somehow, I could have kept a closer eye on them; I could have done a thousand things differently. I had to face Eggsy after seventeen years and could tell in an instant that he was suffering from more than bruises. I looked him in the eye and told him all of his faults, everything that had gone wrong in his life, and said that Lee would be disappointed in his choices when it was nothing of the sort. I was guilty; every one of his failings was _mine_ and I couldn’t tell him.’ Merlin had one eyebrow raised, looking incredulous in a way that only Merlin could. Holo-Harry hung his head, still leaning against the desk and Eggsy was more and more grateful he hadn’t moved. Not that he could have, at this point.

‘Harry you can’t think that you could have fixed all of their problems. That wouldn’t have been a life to live- people need hardship to be whole, Harry. If everything was happy no one would appreciate it. You know that.’

‘I could have erased the menace called Dean before he became the staple he certainly is now. I’d have taken great pleasure in eliminating him. I’d probably have felt a bit better for it, as well. Everyone wins.’

‘Violence isn’t always the answer, Galahad.’

‘It is in our line of work. But this is beside the point. I need you to promise me that you’ll watch out for Eggsy- and, if he doesn’t need more looking after than the average agent then look out for Michelle and Daisy. Lee did nothing but extol Michelle’s virtues at us while he was in training, she deserves happiness, safety, and security. I failed at all of those, maybe you’ll do better.

‘And, if you can manage to get around Arthur for the sake of a dead man... I think it’s about time she knows the details of what happened to Lee. She deserves to know how incredible her husband was.’ Eggsy had long since passed the point of silent tears, touched in a way that words couldn’t describe, but it was this statement that had Eggsy jerk his head up in shock.

Harry had asked Merlin to break protocol for him- no, not him, for his mum. For the woman Lee’s sacrifice had arguably affected the most outside of those still alive. The one person Eggsy hated hiding his job from. She could finally move on, properly celebrate his life instead of mourning the short time they’d had together.

But no. That couldn’t happen. It was a dream that could not come to fruition. The mere thought of Eggsy going to the Marines was enough for her to go mad with worry- he’d had to run off and join up in secret in the first place! He could only imagine what would happen if Merlin came in to tell his mum about how his dad had died, the details would do nothing but make her relive her loss anew. And when she realised that Eggsy was doing the same thing his dad had died training for... He didn’t even want to imagine it.

He felt the blood drain from his face, and he must have made a sound of some kind because Merlin was suddenly aware of his presence again. They lock eyes, neither one fully there, and Merlin answers Holo-Harry without looking away from Eggsy.

‘I’ll do my best, Harry- that’s all I can do.’

‘I expected nothing less of you, Merlin. It’s not like I’ll be there to badger you about it.’ The hologram finally looks up at this, staring in Merlin’s direction, a small smile upon his face. ‘Thank you, Laurel. Truly. I have no way to repay you outside of returning that which I’ve kidnapped over the years. Prototypes, clothing, paintings- I took to nicking stuff from your house to see if you’d notice. I just put them in my house like they’d always been there. I don’t know if you ever noticed, but it amused me to do so- like an inside joke.’

‘Wait a damn minute- what the fuck do you mean you’ve been stealing my things, Harry?’

‘And, on that note, I think I’m done here- I’ve called you by your real name, revealed my nefarious kidnapping of your belongings, and imparted the only requests I truly cared about. Feel free to go through the hard drives and such, but don’t delete my files, please. I’d like for Eggsy to have something of me when he moves in here besides the few fleeting moments we shared.’

> ### Chapter 6

Merlin's initial reaction to the entire Holo-Harry debacle was to remove his glasses and promptly allow his head to fall to the desk. He even spent a few indulgent moments muttering to himself ( _even from beyond the bloody grave he's a bastard_ ) before standing and walking from the room, box in tow, and collapsing onto the sofa.  
  
Which brought them to now, fancy liquor cabinet opened and thoroughly ransacked between the two men, each of which was reeling from recent revelations in entirely different ways.

'Why don't you want your mother to know about how Lee died?'

'What?' Merlin couldn't actually be asking that; that couldn't be his first question after all this.  
  
'Harry told me to tell Michelle how your dad died and you went pale as a sheet- why don't you want your mother to know?'  
  
'She'll go mental! She only just got past everythin' to do with Dean and his shit, and you wanna dredge up things so far back in the past that they barely matter?'  
  
'Of course it matters, Eggsy; it's a constant throbbing you just learn to ignore. It's a festering wound you learn to live with. I highly doubt she's just forgotten that she never got her answers about what happened to her husband.'  
  
'She seemed to be doing just fine with the movin' on thing, what with Dean and all. An' those pricks before him.'  
  
'Eggsy, you know the lengths people go to in order to forget.' Eggsy looks away guiltily, face pink with shame as he thinks of the very house they're sitting in. 'What's the real problem here, lad?' Merlin puts his glass down, placing the newly-freed hand on his shoulder and squeezing just enough to get Eggsy to turn back around.  
  
'I already said, Merlin- she'll go mental! You know what happened last time she went mental like tha'? She managed to get me to quit the Marines, after I fought 'er tooth and nail about enlisting in the first place.' His shoulders slump, and he pulls a hand down his face before continuing. 'If that was how she reacted when all my da had done was die in the Army what do _you_ think she's gonna do when she finds out the truth?'  
  
'You're an adult now, Eggsy.'  
  
'I was an adult then, too; a younger one, sure, but still an adult, bruv.'  
  
'Fair enough. I won't ask what the worst that could happen is- I imagine you and I have very different priorities on that front- but what do you think the _best_ thing that could happen is?'  
  
'I'm sorry?'  
  
'Well you're obviously very adept at imagining the worst- you've got a lot of experience with it, I'd wager- but what's the greatest thing that could come out of your mother knowing how your dad really died? What joys could come from the closure; what _good_ can come from this?'  
  
'Well, if she didn't go completely mad... she'd probably move on a bit healthier. No more rebound guys. And maybe she'd be proud of him.'

'And of you, Eggsy.' Merlin gestures at him with his half-full glass, and Eggsy rolls his eyes. He looks away from Merlin, looking anywhere but his eyes, and Merlin takes that as reason enough to continue.

'She has every reason to be proud of you, lad. Oh she'll worry- any sane parent would- but it's _your_ life you're living. You can't keep putting it on hold because you don't want to hurt her. People get hurt; it's not the hurts that matter but how you treat them afterwards.'  
  
'But she's my mum, I'm not supposed to hurt her- and I promised Harry to take care of her.'  
  
'You were a child, Eggsy, when you made that promise. And I think you've managed that several times over, since then. But she's able to care for herself, now. You've gone above and beyond the call of duty. She's not solely your responsibility, anymore- and never should have been.'  
  
'Well someone had to.' It's said defensively, childishly, but Merlin can see how seriously Eggsy had taken his responsibility. He doubts that Eggsy has even realised that he's gripping the medal he apparently still wears about his neck; let alone doing so so tightly that Merlin can see his muscles flexing all the way to his shoulder.  
  
'Yes, someone did. She did, but mourning and depression make fools of even the wisest of people, parents included. You have to remember that you're just as entitled to happiness as anyone else, Eggsy. You don't have to give up on your own ambitions because it makes someone else worry. Are you happy at Kingsman?'  
  
'Of course I am.'  
  
'Then that's all that matters.'  
  
They don't speak after that, not for a long while, and when they do it's to exchange goodbyes. Eggsy wonders where this leaves them, he and Merlin, as colleagues or friends or something in between- but resolves to bring him breakfast in the morning. A full fry-up, dropped right on his desk- goodness knows how hungover he would be; Eggsy wouldn't have let him go home if it weren't for the fact he lived two doors from his house.  
  
But, with Merlin gone, Eggsy had nothing left to distract himself from the events of the evening.  
  
Harry had blamed himself for everything. Not just his dad's death but _everything_ that had happened after. Every bad decision his mum had made, every abusive boyfriend, every time Eggsy had stumbled in his life Harry had thought he was the cause. Every misfortune of the Unwin family may as well have been stamped "PROPERTY OF HARRY ALAN HART, DO NOT TOUCH" and if that didn't break Eggsy's heart... He wished he had been on the other side of the desk, when Harry had practically spat the words at Merlin- at least then he'd know for sure if the twisted, broken, face Eggsy envisioned in his mind was a reality.  
  
He certainly hoped it wasn't- but then he'd never really know, would he?  
  
\---  
  
'Can I help you?' Michelle had opened the door to the small townhouse she could still barely believe she lived in, and immediately came face to face with a man she did not recognise.  
  
'Well, it's more I who is helping you, but a cup of tea would certainly not go amiss.' She gestures him inside, still confused, and went to put on tea.  
  
'So, what can I do you for...?'  
  
'You can call me Merlin, Mrs. Unwin- and I'm here about Lee.' There was probably a more tactful way to go about this, but Merlin wasn't one to beat around the bush. His no nonsense attitude was one of the plethora of reasons he'd never managed to find a spouse- no one can stand it for long.

Michelle could barely keep herself upright, having let go of the cups and kettle in favour of holding herself up on the counter.  
  
'What could you possibly have to tell me about my Lee? He's already dead.' It's barely a whisper, but it might as well be a roar for how heavily it hangs in the air.  
  
'That's exactly what I'm here to tell you about. My colleague came here just about nineteen years ago to tell you about your husband's death-' She inhales sharply, unsure of what to do with the information, 'but he was unable to give you any details. Fortunately, there's been a change in administration in recent years- and the last will an testament of the colleague in question... it said you deserved to know. And I'm inclined to agree.'  
  
'To know _what_?'  
  
'How he really died. I was there, you know- your husband saved the lives of myself and several others. He died a hero.' He got up from the couch, approached her like one would a frightened animal, and guided her to sit. Michelle's eyes were glazed, her hands shook, but Merlin knew that if there was one thing he could not do it was stop.  
  
Harry was right, she deserved to know the truth. All of it.  
  
'Your husband, Mrs. Unwin, was competing for a position at an international secret service agency, and I trained him. You two were all he talked about in training. Had he succeeded, it would have resulted in a significant pay raise and a house for yourself and his child. He made it past the final test- which had resulted in a tie- so the remaining candidates were brought out into the field.' Merlin finds himself feeling oddly detached- the events were so long ago- but he hadn't been lying when he'd spoken to Eggsy before. Events like this were like festering wounds you learned to live with if left untreated, and closure like this would help immensely. 'The man who delivered the medal to you was already an agent, and missed something- the target had a grenade hidden on his person, and pulled the pin during interrogation.'  
  
'No... he didn'...'  
  
'Your husband saw the threat and immediately rushed forward, pushing his sponsor and mentor out of the way before jumping on the target himself. I don't think he thought it through, what his actions would result in, but he saved us all that day. Now the standard procedure for the families of agents lost is a stipend and a medal with their date of death- a reminder of their sacrifice and bravery- but this was the first time we had to give anything to the family of a recruit; no one had died in the trials before.'  
  
'An' you thought havin' some mysterious man come to my house, without even the letter normal Army wives get, with a medal and a "we're sorry, we can' tell you anything, but 'ere's a medal an' some sort of favour" would make up for the news you delivered? You had tha' man come in 'ere and tell me my husband's dead, and expected me to take some mysterious fancy medal 'nd say "thank you"?' Having reviewed the footage of Harry at the Black Prince several times over, Merlin feels rather like he expected Harry did when Eggsy went off on him. For all the Unwin family lacked in opportunity they made up for in spades of nerve.  
  
' _That man_ was one of my oldest friends, and I'd thank you to at least treat the memory of him with respect. He certainly used his last words to make sure you knew the truth, and that your family was cared for.' Michelle's mouth snapped shut, face pinking with embarrassment and as she looked away Merlin could not help but see Eggsy in her. The same spirit, the same defiance- for all that Eggsy looked like his father his spirit certainly took after his mother. But today was not the day to play nice, he had something to accomplish here, and that was _closure_. If just telling Michelle what had happened to Lee had been Harry's goal, he could have left a letter somewhere in the safe. No, this was meant to be a moment of mourning, of closure, for the both of them. The man who had never mourned, and the woman who had mourned too much.  
  
'I do not want this to be a more painful conversation than it already is, Mrs. Unwin, but you need to understand why I am here. The catastrophe that happened this past year, where everyone went mad with rage and violence- that was stopped by my organisation, but at a very high cost. We lost our leader, and several of our best agents, to the madness and had to promote both of our final candidates despite one of them failing the final test. I lost my oldest friend to that madness, and we have only just now found his will and I will be _damned_ if I do not do my utmost to fulfill his last wishes.  
  
'Yes, we expected you to take the favour. We expected you to take it and call within a week or two asking for financial assistance, or help with obtaining a job that would support both you and your son, but instead you let a five year old child keep the medal and told him about the favour as some sort of faerie story. Something only to be used in the direst of circumstances. And then you allowed your grief to consume you, to cloud your every judgement and that would have been fine for a time but you stayed that way for _years._ We weren't going to intrude on your life unless you asked- we are first and foremost gentleman, as Harry would say.'  
  
'Harry?' She's looking at him now, which is an improvement, but it's sharply and a bit too intense. Perhaps he had made a mistake in mentioning him by name, but what's done was done, and there was nothing for it now.  
  
'My friend, Mrs. Unwin. And, on that note,' Merlin slapped his palms against his thighs before rising, leaning forward to rest a hand on Michelle's shoulder, 'I think I'll be off. I hope that this has brought you some closure- it will certainly give me peace of mind to know that Lee's widow won't be wondering what happened to him anymore. I wish I'd had the authority to tell you then, but I expect you wouldn't have wanted to hear it.'  
  
'I'm no' entirely sure I wanted to hear it now- but thank you, Merlin.'  
  
'You're welcome- let's hope this is the last time we meet under such circumstances.'

###  [Chapter 7](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4396538/chapters/13094209)

Eggsy had spent the weeks following the Hologram Incident trying to go back to the way things had been before it. Sure there were things missing in the house now, a few knick-knacks and paintings- the most notable loss was that picture of a demon-looking thing by the kitchen which Eggsy was only too happy to part with. Mr. Pickle was one thing, he had a sentimental excuse, but the demon-thing (he didn't even want to give it a name. When you name something, you want to keep it- no way Eggsy was going down that slope) had put Eggsy off from eating more than once after tough missions.

He didn't wear the glasses inside, changed from his suits as soon as he was able, locked everything back up tightly in the wall, and moved on. It's what Harry would have wanted.

Except he couldn't put Holo-Harry from his mind. He'd wanted Eggsy to have something of him than those few periods they'd had together that hadn't involved Eggsy reading to an unresponsive body. What had he meant by that? What was hiding in those hard drives that Harry had wanted him to have? As curious as he was, he knew that now was not the time. He was still mourning him, he was still reeling from the loss of him, and to go and peruse his private files... Eggsy was just about positive it would break him, to learn more about Harry than he had already known. If this was how shattered he was from losing a near stranger how much more painful would it be to have lost a friend?

It's a unique situation, to be able to learn more about someone you already felt connected to after they had died, but it wasn't one Eggsy thought he could get through. Not yet.

So he snatched up every mission he had the opportunity to bid for. He kept himself busy, out of the house, away from his mum and Daisy; he kept himself from thinking too deeply about anything other than completing the mission at hand and getting out alive. Of course, these things weren't meant to last, and soon enough Eggsy had broken his left arm and was forced out of the field for just over a month barring emergencies.

'You can't be serious- the fuck am I supposed to do here for a _month_?!'

'You could always catch up on your reports- last I heard Merlin was ready to break a limb himself if it would get you to write them up.' The words were muffled in the way only holding a pen cap between your teeth can make them, but they needn't be perfectly clear for Eggsy to hear the smile in her voice. Roxy had a sharpie in one hand, Eggsy's arm in the other, held at such an angle that he had no idea what she was doing with the former of the two.

'That's _exactly_ what I'm gonna do, yeah? Out of commission so I'm gonna write about all those times I actually did the job without fucking up. Cheerful.' It's bitter, but he chuckles anyway. In his haste to get in and out of his (Harry's) house he hadn't bothered to sit down and type up his reports. 'Why do they need me to write 'em down anyway? They was _there_ and there's recordin's and shit why torture us with paperwork?'

'Just because we're not affiliated with any government doesn't mean that we're without governing, Eggsy.' She'd spit the cap out, now, her tongue sticking out slightly in concentration, 'But I also think they're a bit mad you've been doing so much. There's policies about working too much, you know, and if it weren't for the world _still_ being a relative wreck from V-Day you'd have passed them long ago.'

'I don't see you getting corrected for bein' out on assignment so much.' This was the first time they'd had more than an hour together since the Hologram Incident- not that Roxy knew anything about that. He didn't know how to put it into words- and he highly doubted Merlin was off telling Roxy about all his personal time outside of HQ. Still, the point remained: Roxy had been just as busy as Eggsy had been, she wasn't one to talk.

'That's probably because I do what they ask the _first_ time, Eggsy.' She nods to herself, taking a picture on her phone before capping the sharpie. 'Anyway, I'm off for the next two days- you up for a night in tomorrow? I'll bring pizza, you grab beer, we'll Netflix a shitty film?'

'Yeah, alright.'

\-----

'Hey, mum.' Eggsy kissed her on the cheek before swooping down to do the same to his sister; if he was gonna be grounded for the next _month_ he was going to use the time to catch up with his family. No better use for it.

'Surprised to see you 'round, sweetheart- it's been a while.' She continued to stir the pot, but nods him towards the place at the table he sets up every time. It was autopilot, and luckily he was over often enough for dinner to warrant the muscle memory, though he often arrived more injured than the last time she'd seen him.

'Yeah, sorry 'bout that- they had me travelling from posh place to posh place picking up fabric- got this blue silk in that would look lovely on you, mum.'

'Oh none of that tripe here, love. Forge' about work and enjoy a nice dinner with your family. Just cos you've got your own place and a fancy job doesn't mean you can' come back home and relax, babe.'

Dinner itself was uneventful, on the whole; Eggsy made sure Daisy ate all her food and didn't feed it all to her imaginary dragon, Spots. Cute as the notion was, the mess was not fun to clean up, so Eggsy was sure to act out leaving some food for Spots in the living room before they actually began eating. The evening settled down when Daisy tuckered out, Eggsy brought her to bed and read her a story about knights and dragons (she had an unnatural obsession with dragons for her age), and now the two adults were sat on the couch with mugs of hot chocolate.

There was something to be said about the little things.

'Had someone come 'round about your dad, called himself Merlin.' Eggsy didn't want to have this conversation now. Actually, he wasn't certain that he wanted to have this conversation _ever_ but this was his mum and there was no way he was getting out of this.

'Oh?'

'Don't play dumb, Eggsy; there's only so many people in the world who would willingly introduce themselves as Merlin- I know he's your boss.’

‘Yeah, well, forgive me if this is all new territory- I never really expected you to meet. Let alone in those kind of circumstances.’

‘So you knew he was coming, then? Pretty out of nowhere.’

'You can’t plan finding someone’s Will when you didn’t think one existed, mum. And I wasn’ gonna drag up the past- not after you just getting through everything else.’

‘You knew what happened to your dad _and you didn’t tell me?_ ’

‘Yeah; I mean it’s not like I could just pop up and say “hey, mum, I know how dad died!” cos you’d have asked how I found out and it woulda been a mess. Never you mind that Dean literally tried to _kill me_ the day I found out and only stopped cos of that voice saying he was gonna tell the police. Never felt like an okay time to tell you, after that.’ Eggsy shrugged; he couldn't meet her eye, not with that between them.

‘I- well... you still shoulda told me.’

‘Why, to get you all depressed all over again right as you were getting through this? I _remember_ what you were like right after dad died. I wasn’t gonna subject Daisy to that.’

‘I did my best, Eggsy!’

‘You let dads death eat you up inside so deeply that you _forgot my birthday_ and I had to go and make myself somethin’ sweet cos I wanted my birthday to be like before. _Twice_.’ Michelle had no response to that, looked down at her lap and wrung her hands trying to think of a way to show Eggsy she had been trying. ‘I know it was hard, mum, but it was like you forgo’ all about how your decisions were affecting _me_ after that. I don’t blame you now, but it weren’t fun either and I wasn’t gonna let Daisy go through something like that if I could help it. So no, I wasn’t gonna tell you.’

‘Well I know now. And I haven’t ended up like that.’ She’s justifying the past and defending the present all in one go. Or trying to, at least.

‘And I don’t think I’ve been more grateful to the universe in all my life.’

‘... So he also mentioned his friend.’ It's said casually, overly casually, and Eggsy was immediately on alert. This wasn't gonna end well.

‘The one who died?’ Maybe if he acts disinterested she'll let it go.

‘Yeah; said his name, too’ Oh no. ‘Said his name was _Harry_ an’ doesn’t that sound familiar.’

‘Mum, do you really want to talk about this _now_?'

'Yeah, I do- why're you so banged up about his friend's death that you're still needing nights with Roxy? I love her, don' get me wrong, but it feels like every time you both are over she ends up holdin' you while you cry.' She may not have been there for him before but she sure as hell was going to be there now. If it wasn't already too late.

'Yeah, well I _don't_ want to talk about this.' _C'mon Michelle,_ _you can do this_.

'Tha's just too bad, Eggsy, cos I got the feeling you need to talk abou' it. I'm not letting this slide, love, it's been over a _year_ -'

'Yeah well it certainly took you longer than tha' to pull yourself together after dad so _sorry_ if I'm not over his death yet.'

'I-' She looked contrite, one hand extended as if to offer comfort, but Eggsy didn't want anyone touching him right then. He's never good about tactile comfort in times of stress. Dean left a pretty deep scar over the whole touching thing.

'I'm heading out, mum. I'll see you next week, maybe.' She'd pushed him too far, too soon.

Michelle covered her mouth with one hand, stifling a sob as the door clicked shut behind him.

### Chapter 8

'Why did we watch this again?' The credits are going, and a film Eggsy would _love_ to erase from his memory is finally over.  
  
'Rotten Tomatoes said it was good!'  
  
'The popcorn was _empty_ Rox, tha' means people _didn't_ like it!'  
  
'40 percent isn't an _awful_ rating, and we _did_ say we were going to watch a shitty film.'  
  
'There are limits! If I had a time machine the first thing I'd do is prevent this shit from existing!'

'Really? The _first thing_ you'd do with the ability to go back in time is stop this shitfest from existing?' He knows what she's getting at, but he can't think of that, not just then. He still needed _time._  
  
'It's called the butterfly effect, Rox, changin' one thing can affect a million others- who knows what erasing this film would do to the future! Imagine the good I could do!'  
  
'Wow, Eggs' I'd never've guessed you knew about the butterfly effect- so full of surprises.'  
  
'Oh, fuck off.' He shoves her off the arm of the couch, and she thumps to the ground with a yelp. He pretends he did it for comedic effect, but knows he did it to distract himself. He didn't need more will-o'-wisps of Harry in the house. 'Gotta have shit to impress the birds with, y'get me? An' alright some of the blokes, too; but I've always been wicked smart when I wanna be.'  
  
'Sure you have, Eggsy. Whatever helps you sleep at night.' She pats his shoulder, nods sympathetically, and that's what pushes things from teasing to all out _war_.

'Oi!' He throws a pillow in her general direction, sure to avoid the greasy pizza boxes sitting on the table in front of him. It knocks the glass from her hand, thankfully empty, and serves its purpose.  
  
The night passes with relative ease, thankfully. The pillow war had resulted in them both being far too tired to move, and instead they had ended up cuddled up in the wreckage- JB curled up at their feet. Unfortunately, good things can't last, and they're woken by Roxy's glasses ringing from the coffee table.

'Yes, Merlin?' She's stood up, all proper posture despite there being no one to impress, and faced the wall. He guesses it's a concentration thing, or maybe she (rightfully) thinks Eggsy would be making crass gestures and funny faces at her. Small pleasures.  
  
'I'll be right in.' It's fucking weird to only hear half a conversation, but Eggsy's pretty sure he wouldn't have paid much attention even if he _could_ hear. Being half asleep does that.  
  
'I'm sorry to cut this short, Eggs-' She froze, mouth still open, eyes focused on something by the stairwell that he couldn't see. Sitting down on the floor made it difficult to see past couches and such.  
  
'S'okay, Rox, Kingsman comes first- wouldn't have you withou' them now would I? ...Rox?' He waved a hand in front of her face, which wasn't such a smart idea because a startled Roxy is a dangerous Roxy, and she gripped his wrist so tightly he was certain it would bruise.  
  
'How the _fuck_ is Harry Hart in your house?'  
  
'Oh, _that-_ don't you worry about it; it's just a thing Harry had that turned on after he died to show us his Will. You can ask Merlin and everythin'- why d'you think I don't wear my specs inside?' _Please don't ask anything else, please don't ask for details, I don't think I can say more without breaking, please, please, please..._ She looked at him for a moment, head tilted slightly, before she nodded.

'Merlin's backing you up, so I guess I believe you; but, can't you just turn it off? I mean, Eggsy, avoiding a problem doesn't make it go away, you know? You've got to let him go; I don't like seeing you in pain.' She looks at him like one would look at a natural disaster from a distance- with pity and immeasurable sadness- and it takes everything in him not to scream. _Can't you see I'm_ trying _?_ But that wouldn't help anyone.

'Dunno how to turn it off- not like Harry left instructions, we don't even know how it turned on. Or how it works, honestly. So I'm just working around it. We'll figure it out.' They're empty words, things he has no real intention of expanding on, but they placate Roxy into leaving. A mission can't be delayed for too long- they are, after all, usually matters of international importance- and he's incredibly glad to see her leave.  
  
Roxy's an incredible mate, she is, but she had too much distance between herself and her emotions to really sympathise with him. Or maybe it was that Eggsy didn't have _enough_ space between himself and his emotions. _He_ was the one who was out of whack, not her. That made a fair bit more sense- she wasn't nearly as messed up as he was. It was probably just another defect of his.

'Fuuuuuuuuuck.' Eggsy flopped backward onto the floor. He was messed up. He was living his life to the standard of a man who would never see the results. He was so set against actually working through his grief that he'd snapped at his mum and ran out on her.  
  
(Though, honestly, it wasn't like she'd been all that sensitive in how she'd tried to tackle the issue, right? "Hey a guy you know came to tell me about how your dad died, also why are you crying about his dead mate over a year later?" is just not a tactful way to try to deal with an emotional situation. At least, he didn't think it was. Was it? He doubted a lot of things, at the moment)  
  
He'd apologise, once he knew what to say. It wasn't like there was one of those self-help books "what to do when your mentor dies, you had to see the bullet come at you, and you may or may not have been in love with the idea of him" cos shit that would be a mouthful of a title. Probably wouldn't sell a lot of copies, neither, being so specific an' all.  
  
'I fucked up... Mum def don't deserve that shit from me...' He hadn't meant to be so harsh with her- but he hadn't lied. He wouldn't lie to her like that- and, no (he told himself harshly) withholding the truth wasn't lying. She'd never _asked_ if he'd known how his dad died, had she, so he hadn't lied to her. Not really. But that didn't excuse what he'd done- even if she _was_ pushing a bit much. Honestly, he was a grown man with his own house and he could handle himself- had done for a long while now.

But was he actually handling himself?  
  
He was living in the house of a dead man to keep alive yet somehow simultaneously avoid his memory. He was avoiding the _Hologram_ of said man, who had in fact spent the majority of their acquaintanceship (because, honestly, were they ever truly friends?) in a coma. A man he had barely known, but had nonetheless believed in him and seen something behind the grime that life in the estates had covered him in. Had seen someone worth _something_ ; not someone to rescue (at least, not solely) but someone to be given the tools to rescue himself. Someone to give a _chance_ so that their overall success or failure couldn't be handed off to someone else; their results would be their own.  
  
He'd never mourned Harry the way he deserved to be mourned, with laughter at his expense and drinks to his memory. He didn't have any stories. Oh, the drinks would be easy enough to procure, but drinking without a purpose and drinking to mourn were too close to the things his mum had done growing up; that was a road he did _not_ want to walk down. He wasn't mourning Harry by living in this house, or by taking up his name, he wasn't honouring the memory of a dead man because... Eggsy didn't really believe he was dead. They hadn't ever been able to find his body, they'd buried an empty coffin, Merlin had basically taken over as Arthur, and Kingsman had moved on.  
  
But Harry, the ghost of him or the live one whichever was the reality, wouldn't have wanted him to live like this. Wouldn't have wanted to see an Eggsy stagnated, operating on autopilot in the cenotaph of a man who (by his own measure) was undeserving of such sentiments.  
  
'The fuck are you doing, Eggsy- pull yourself together,' Harry had looked at Eggsy and had seen _potential_ and now Eggsy was squandering it by living in a past he was never actually a part of. Eggsy was still on the floor, flat on his back with the heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, hissing breaths through his teeth. Everything'd changed when he'd seen that Hologram what seems like a lifetime ago, but maybe- maybe it was stuff that needed changing. Why did it take a dead man's words to open his eyes?  
  
It hurt, _gods_ did it hurt, there weren't enough words in every language he'd heard of to describe the pain of thinking about this. Eggsy wanted to let go of Harry Hart about as much as he had wanted to leave the Marines. But, the needs of the many over the wants of the few (or one, in this case) and all that bullshit, just like the last time. He had a duty to Kingsman to be at his best, and this wasn't it.  
  
Eggsy sat up slowly, pulling up the bottom of his shirt to wipe away the few tears that had escaped, giving himself a few more moments to pull himself together. He made his way upstairs to the guest room, pulling open the drawer that contained his specs before going back downstairs empty handed. Not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow and maybe not next week but _soon_ he was going to face at least one of the ghosts that haunted him.

### Chapter 9

Eggsy started small. He wore his glasses around the house and tried not to flinch every time he saw Harry. It took a while to get used to putting them on every morning- as if he actually needed them to see- and keep himself from tapping on his coms and alerting Merlin to what he was doing. It was a reflex now- glasses on, tap in periodically to make sure everything's going according to plan- it took conscious effort to do otherwise.

There's a Harry in the kitchen. It follows him through the dining room and to the stairs before turning around. A separate one sitting in the drawing room. One in the Office. Another walking from the front door holds up an arm to gesture to the bathroom Mr. Pickle resides in.

Creepy, but wasn't this entire situation?  
  
Eggsy refused to make contact, didn't speak to them, but their eyes followed the frames of his glasses all the same. Eggsy swore he could feel them watching, despite not really having eyes. He certainly didn't feel like that when at Round Table meetings- or perhaps that was just because he wasn't as hyper-aware of them as he was of Harry.  
  
Yes, even the Holo-Harry seemed to be keyed into the very fibre of his being- now that he knew he was there it was impossible to un-notice him. But he wasn't ready to talk yet.  
  
He struggled with his cast, incredibly annoyed at his inability to function like a normal human being, but adjusted by wearing soft, loose, clothing as opposed to his suits or denims. Who was around to care if he ran about in his trackies and a t-shirt? Holo-Harry certainly wouldn't care- or know, come to think of it. He didn't feel entirely comfortable wandering around topless- he hadn't before the Hologram Incident and he certainly didn't now- even though it would be way more comfortable than pushing his cast through a sleeve every morning.  
  
Eggsy let himself grow used to the odd abundance of Holo-Harrys; able to walk both by and through them without flinching, able to look them in the eye and nod as he went by and watch how they followed his eye-level. Merlin checked in, sometimes- the glasses pinging just long enough for Eggsy to arrange himself inconspicuously before answering.  
  
(And honestly wasn't that a load of shite. He felt like he was hiding in his own (Harry's) home and needed to pretend to be the same as things always had been. Even when they both knew how different they actually were.)

Eggsy took his forced down time to set up a proper trust for Daisy, and write up his own will (as morbid as that was) just in case. Roxy had come in and left again for another mission in the span of a week, Merlin refused to give him any sort of busywork ( _I'd rather not have to do it twice, lad_ ) and had little spare time to just chat with Eggsy with his being Merthur and all. He could call up Jamal and Ryan, but none of their schedules really synced up anymore- Ryan had gotten a job at a pub and Jamal was working with a construction company. He'd helped a bit with the rebuilding right after V-Day, and when that slowed down the company decided to keep him. Good work ethic, or something. Ryan's pub job was little more than clearing tables- but he was training to be a bartender, which'd definitely be a step up.

He called up his mum, stammering his way through an apology he honestly only half felt was deserved (they hadn't seen each other for months and she decided that she was going to pry her way into his mourning? What right did she have?) but necessary. His mum had apologised in turn for pushing too hard, which he accepted, and for treating him like the boy he no longer was ( _it's hard to remember you're all grown up now, babes_ ) which had resulted in some teasing; they'd hung up on a high note, and Eggsy felt lighter than he'd expected.  
  
He had less than a week left with the cast when he decided to bite the bullet and talk to Harry.

'So what's so important about the kitchen, Haz?' Calling Holo-Harry by something he had never called the actual Harry helped him feel more distanced. 'Why're you in here?'  
  
'Eggsy, if you're seeing this then I'm either dead or severely incapacitated. Or dying, I suppose. All pleasant options, and obviously ideal dinner conversation. Have a seat.' Eggsy did so on autopilot, and was only mildly displeased with himself for giving in so easily. As he pulled out the same chair he'd sat in after the train test, he kept his eyes locked onto Holo-Harry's as he sat. He nodded to himself and turned toward the globe. 'Obviously I can't pour for you, but feel free to get yourself something if you feel you'll need it for this conversation. Well, more of a monologue, but the point remains.' Eggsy couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to, struck by seeing Harry in such casual motion. Riveted as he poured a healthy serving of whisky from an equally holographic decanter before seating himself across from Eggsy.  
  
'A gentleman is known for his manners, Eggsy- it's not about his wealth or his status, but on how he treats his fellow man. I began teaching you the formalities in this very room, but you were already far more gentlemanly than most privileged people- a glance at Mr. Hesketh should be enough to prove my point.' Harry sipped at his glass, tipping it once in Eggsy's direction before setting it back to the table. 'To be perfectly frank, I didn't have much to teach you outside of the airs and graces those who think themselves better seek out in companionship. I gave you the sheep's clothing, as it were, to your already impressive wolf.'

'I didn't know anythin' about gentlemanly shit, Harry- I just did what I had to do to keep on keepin' on.' Eggsy could feel the flush running up his neck and along the tops of his ears. Hologram or not, Harry's attention was piercing and his words caused something not unlike pride to curl deep within him.  
  
'Eggsy, you continuously kept from violence in the face of cruelty. Yes,' Harry smirked and raised an eyebrow conspiratorially, 'probably not in the best of ways, but you never fought violence with outright violence. You were never _intentionally_ cruel despite every right to be so in your circumstances. Most all of the poor decisions in your file were indirectly or directly caused by your incessant need to help and be there for those you care for. I'd say I was sorry for the way I spoke to you at the pub when we met- but I cannot regret the things that led us to where we are.  
  
'Except, perhaps, whatever circumstances have led to my premature demise. I assume Valentine was involved as he's the only active case I'm working on. I hope that gets sorted.'

'It was, it's over, and now I'm just wondering why the fuck I'm sitting in your kitchen talking at a blue ghost of you drinking.'

'Do you see that decanter, Eggsy?' The hologram said, apropos of nothing. He gestured with the glass in his hand, eyebrows slightly raised, and Eggsy couldn't help but turn fully in his seat to look, despite knowing exactly the decanter he was gesturing to.

'Yes, Harry.'  
  
'As you surely know by now, when a Knight falls in the line of duty the rest of us gather in whatever way we're able to hold a toast. At the shop, at the Table, there's a decanter of Napoleonic brandy reserved for this purpose. The Lancelot before you-' Eggsy flinched at the sudden reminder that he hadn't disappointed _this_ Harry, 'and James was the first toast I ever participated in. It seems that Lancelot is to be the position we need replacing of most often. Do break that chain now, won't you?  
  
'I'd been Knighted for nearly 16 years before the decanter was opened in my presence, and it certainly didn't seem like enough of a gesture for a man who had done as much as he had. He'd been Percival's mentor, and had certainly been willing to teach me the things he knew, if I asked. But we had no opportunity to retrieve his body, it was deemed unimportant in the grand scheme of things, and there was work to be done.'  
  
'There's always _bloody_ work to be done.' Eggsy muttered, lips pursed, as Harry's hologram chuckled.  
  
'Yes, there's always work to be done- it's the life we lead, my boy. Percival took it upon himself to bring the medal to his wife, who knew some but not all of Kingsman's secrets, and I didn't hear from him for over a week. He came back with tattoos and little memory of how they got there- but he treasures the throwing knives on his wrists the way one covets a priceless artifact.  
  
'The point being, Eggsy, that though Kingsman has a ritual for mourning the loss of a Knight it is not always enough. Not for those who care deeply for their friends and comrades- as I'm sure you do. As I certainly did.' Harry stops for a moment, taking a sip from his glass before looking at it thoughtfully. It reminds Eggsy starkly of his first visit to the tailor shop, after Dean's beating at the start of everything, and he can see clearly the moment the decision is made.  
  
'The decanter behind you is what I drink from for toasts when I can't make it to the shop- call in from the chair at the head of the table and it projects what I'm doing to the Table there. Not much unlike this system I'm using to talk to you now. I've only drunk from that decanter three times- twice for Lancelots, and once in a blatant disregard for tradition between said toasts.'  
  
Eggsy was suddenly very unsure if he wanted to be sitting at this table, listening to the things this hologram of his dead mentor had to say.  
  
'The day your father sacrificed himself for the sake of everyone on that team- Merlin, myself, and James- James was knighted there in the field, we cleaned the scene, and I came back here as soon as we touched down. I blew off Arthur's false sympathy, shrugged off Merlin's sincere empathy, congratulated James on his new position, and ran back into my hidey-hole to lick my wounds.  
  
'It was the first time I had personally pulled someone into this lifestyle. It was the first time I had ever presented a candidate, and I had found my colleagues bland and unwilling to adapt and knew we needed new blood and ideas. I had pulled someone unrelated to myself and unconnected to any sort of influence- I had chosen someone I saw as loyal and skilled despite any other circumstance. And I had taken that person away from a life and a family in the interest of offering him the chance at something better- something he certainly deserved- and I had gotten him killed.'  
  
'He made 'is own choices, Harry- he knew what he was doin'. He was in the army, he knew what would happen to everyone and one of the first things they shove into your skull at basic is the needs of the many. The whole tripe about the team being more important than you an' shit to keep 'em from getting big heads. You didn' shove him in the way, he put himself there, an' that makes all the difference. It weren't your fault.' Eggsy interrupted, compelled beyond reason to pull Holo-Harry from his self-deprecation.  
  
'I still blame myself, Eggsy- it's not rational, but it's the truth- so I came back here and poured myself a drink to the Lancelot that should have been.' Harry took a deep breath, placing the glass on the table before locking eyes with Eggsy. Eggsy froze, feeling pinned and vulnerable in a way wholly irrational considering this was a hologram and not the real man. 'I've done a lot of things with my life, Eggsy. Not all of them good, but they were the tasks assigned to me and I take great pride in a job well done. Your father's death has influenced my life in more ways than I probably know or could possibly express. I'm honoured to have known him, and in turn have known you- I can only wish you could have known each other.'  
  
Eggsy pushed himself from the table, glancing briefly back at Harry still sitting with his hands clasped together, and ran from the room.

### Chapter 10

Eggsy stopped wearing the specs for a bit, after that. The cast came off and PT started for his arm; it was a bitch and a half but it meant he was getting better. That he'd be getting back into the field.  
  
But he kept coming back to Harry.  
  
Now that it was shoved into his face, albeit accidentally by what was basically a high-tech ghost, Eggsy couldn't help but marvel that he'd upheld Kingsman tradition entirely by accident. He'd upheld a _Galahad_ tradition in a fit of loss and self loathing. Which in itself seemed to be a Galahad tradition.  
  
He hid the decanter in a cabinet, but it didn't really do much beside leave a hole to remind him of the realisation. A spot where shit's cleaner or something when you move what was there before.

Eggsy went through the motions of his days much as he had before, but he couldn't really pretend that nothing had changed. On some level ( _everything I've done has been trying to repay him_ ) Eggsy had always known that Harry still blamed himself for his father's death. No stranger would have reacted to his record so vehemently otherwise- well meaning or not, there'd been honest anger hiding behind his pointed words. The way Harry had always mentioned his dad in passing ( _your father had the same look on his face_ ) with that melancholy look...  
  
In a strange way, Eggsy was grateful that Harry'd been in a coma for such a large portion of his training. Fuck knew what other unnecessary comparisons he would have made between Eggsy and his dad. Where else Eggsy would have ended up barely more than an echo of his father in Harry's eyes.  
  
Those thoughts were driven from his head as violently and often as he could manage, often with a round or two at the firing range and a stiff drink. With the notable exception of Roxy once betting he couldn't _not_ shoot himself if he was plastered, the two didn't mix- though he couldn't deny that watching Roxy waddle about awkwardly in a set of twenty-five centimetre platforms was _totally_ worth it.

It took a while, but eventually Eggsy put on his big boy pants and sat himself down in front of Harry in the drawing room on a Thursday afternoon.

'What, no drink, Haz?' Holo-Harry was wearing a cardigan, some dark colour, and holding a book that he'd probably been pretending to read while waiting for Eggsy to step the fuck up and sit the fuck down with him. Not that Eggsy'd been paying attention, or anything.

'With little exception, Eggsy, relaxation does not require alcohol. Perhaps every once in a while, but if one's immediate association with relaxing is to drink... well, I'm certain we both know where that leads.' The book was closed and placed upon his lap, spine obscured by Harry's forearms resting atop it. 'No, Eggsy, this conversation requires no vice strong as that.  
  
'My name is Harry Hart- my mother named me for her grandfather, Hawkins; luckily without actively providing me with a built in "kick me" sign. My father was not the most pleasant of men, my mother was as well-meaning as she was exasperated with the hand she believed life had dealt her, but betwixt them they had far more connections than any average family ought. Mostly due to the fact that my father's first cousin is a man by the name of Chester King.'

Eggsy gasped quietly, never having thought he'd one day vaguely regret killing the man. Very vaguely. Like a memory you're not quite sure truly happened or was just a really realistic dream. Or a blurry picture you can just barely make out.

That is to say, not very much at all, but the fact that they'd been related was an unpleasant surprise.  
  
'We never interacted much- our differences in age and politics were a harsh divide- but the connection was there. Many a night I would come home from university to find my father in the sitting room entertaining him, a fair bit of scotch split between two glasses.' Harry sighed, one hand raising to rub at the bridge of his nose, and Eggsy suddenly noticed just how _tired_ Harry looked. 'Contrary to what you might believe based upon this, Chester was not my sponsor into Kingsman. I'm sure you've noticed by now how uncompromising he can be when he has an opinion. And he has many.  
  
'The day Lancelot died, Eggsy, Arthur attempted to make me see how foolish my previous choice of candidate had been. Made a disparaging comment about choosing a "more suitable candidate" and I will happily admit to wanting him to take a long walk off a short pier.' Eggsy snorted a laugh, relaxing despite himself.  
  
'Didn't know you had it in you, Haz.' The nickname was becoming a bad habit, but it wasn't as if Harry were here to correct him.   
  
'I resisted stating as much, but when he tried to make light of your father's sacrifice... I called him a snob, and told him that there was a reason aristocrats developed weak chins. With respect, of course.' Holo-Harry smiled, eyes glazed over as if caught in a pleasant memory, as Eggsy chuckled from behind his hand. Imagining Harry being a shit to his boss was one thing, but having evidence (or whatever the words of a technological ghost were considered) that he actually _had_ been... Eggsy couldn't help but smile fondly at the Harry-That-Was sitting before him.  
  
'I'd have paid to see that.'  
  
'Merlin can likely obtain a copy of that footage- it happened in the Dining Room, certainly not exempt from surveillance. Alternatively, it's also in my personal terminal somewhere, which you have access to as we're obviously interacting at this moment.'  
  
'You was a shit, weren't you, Haz?'

'I was not always entirely gentlemanly, no- but I knew when to push and when to leave things be. At least, that's what I tell myself when I find I'm in circumstances that could have been avoided by keeping my mouth shut. If I've put myself there, there is a _reason_ and it is worth it. I seldom say much without meaning it.'

Eggsy was simultaneously elated and despondent, the words having brought two distinct moments to mind, unsurprisingly. _I see a young man with potential. (Can't you see that everything I've done has been about trying to repay him?)_ And which one was the truth, then? Did he go by what Harry had said most recently? Had Harry seen potential in him at first, only for Eggsy to fuck it up by not noticing the blank?   
  
Would Harry have ever acknowledged Eggsy's accomplishments as his own, instead of some warped echo of his father's potential?  
  
'But that's getting a bit far from the topic. Which, yes, there is in fact a purpose here, Eggsy. I came to the realisation a few days ago that, for all that I know about you, you don't know that much about me. It's something that would have been rectified with time, had I not ended up in a coma and had actually spent your candidacy conscious and present. Or after you had become Lancelot as I was rightfully sure you would.'  
  
There was a now-familiar pang in Eggsy's chest.  
  
'Unfortunately, as we sit here having this admittedly one-sided conversation, it's plain to see that we did not get that time. So, I have decided to impart to you what I felt was worth mentioning here. Certainly an unconventional use of Merlin's technology, but not an immoral one.  
  
'I digress, today I've sat here to tell you about my life before Kingsman- the man behind the mask, as it were.'  
  
'I know enough, Haz- I know you from Merlin's drunken ramblin' and your fucking stuffed dog and the old footage I've been going through on your laptop. Yeah, maybe I added some shit here an' there in my head but I knew you- maybe not as much as I wanted to, or as well, but enough.'  
  
'I met the previous Bedivere by happenstance at one of the incredibly boring functions my father expected me to attend. In retrospect he likely expected me to eventually set aside my differences with Arthur and conform to the conventions of that life- which both happened and didn't.' The hologram continued, luckily not talking through Eggsy but not acknowledging that he had spoken beyond the pause.

'I went to university to study Entomology, I've always found the process of pinning insects fascinating, and intended to look into museum work. Curating seemed to be as far from the posh life my father wished for me to enjoy, which pleased my rebellious side. It happened that my obsessive knowledge of insects saved Bedivere from something or other- I don't recall the details, it was a number of years ago- and when the Galahad position became available he named me as his candidate.' A slow smirk curled itself at the edge of Harry's mouth, and Eggsy could easily visualise him steepling his hands as he leant forward onto the table. 'You can only imagine the look on poor Arthur's- Lamorak, at the time- face when I won. Unfortunately there is no footage- as ahead of the times as Kingsman always is, there are limits.'

'I got the feeling it's the opposite of the face he made when I fucked up the last test. Like, he drank half a glass of sour milk and can't bring himself to sick it up, or something.'  
  
'Needless to say it was the highlight of my life until that point. I could probably form a fully corporeal patronus with that alone.'  
  
'You read the Potter books? Thought you was too old for that.'  
  
'Eggsy, you'd be hard pressed to find something I would refuse to read. They were _only_ a global phenomena, and there was a limit to how many "you're a wizard, Harry!" jokes I could take from James before picking the damn things up. Don't let Percival's stoic demeanour fool you- he's just as awful as his husband was. You just don't think he could be the culprit.'  
  
'You sound like a conspiracy theorist- you gonna tell me the moon doesn't exist or something?'  
  
'Fine. Don't believe me. I certainly won't be there to help you undo whatever he decides upon for you. And Roxy's friendship will not grant you mercy. You'll see.'

' _Sure_ , Haz. If you say so.' Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

### Chapter 11

Suddenly, or perhaps not so suddenly at all, Eggsy felt entirely at ease in his own home. He bounded through the door in the evenings after the last bout of his PT, arm feeling more like an arm again as opposed to a weighted stone that also happened to look like an arm. He wore his glasses most of the time, taking them off only to sleep and sometimes play a video game, and smiled happily at each Holo-Harry he passed, nodding or waving despite only getting the tracking of his glasses frames in return.  
  
Eggsy took to actually reading Harry's old mission reports- and hidden within those files were complaints. Lots of them. Mostly about Arthur, but often referencing some prank Percival and James had pulled on the Kingsman. A night where the showers had glitter put into the piping, resulting in some Twilight-Vampire-esque agents for the next few days. A fortnight where each day the Table at the shop was moved an centimetre to the side until it any hologram agents were neatly bisected by the table itself.  
  
He found himself developing a fondness for the pair, needing to remind himself regularly that these were not his memories- or even things he should rightfully have access too, by any means. He had to smother wide grins and halt inside-jokes from escaping his lips. Things even Roxy wouldn't have known. Things that would get Merlin suspiciously showing up at the mews to appropriate the rest of Harry's hard drives and mission reports.

Eggsy supposed it was only sheer dumb luck that had kept Merlin from confiscating them in the first place.  
  
But he was grateful to have Holo-Harry. Haz. He was grateful for the gift of getting to know his once-mentor properly, of having the chance to see him as a man with a penchant for theatrics (outside of his moment of honest anger with Professor Arnold) and hobbies.  
  
But what he was most grateful for, was his wisdom. For the lessons he could unwittingly teach Eggsy while chattering about whichever Sun cover Eggsy had asked about. And none of the 'Oh, I missed that game,' or 'There was dirty bomb but I handled it,' but legitimate stories. The honest narration of panic, or what bit of Macgyvering stood between his unwitting choices and untimely demise. Oftentimes Haz would even tell him to look up a specific file to refer back to.  
  
'What 'appened here, then?' Eggsy asked, gesturing to "The Judge and the Rent Boy" cover. Holo-Harry leant back in his chair, briefly phasing through it, before leaning forward minutely.  
  
' _That_ was the assignment I met your father, actually. There'd been word of cooperation with a known terrorist organisation on the part of someone fairly high up the Operation Banner ladder, and the organisation in question was one Kingsman was already looking into.  
  
'Of course this meant I had to infiltrate the Army in the first place; not the most difficult of the things in the grand scheme of things I've needed to do for Kingsman, but certainly a complicated one. One I had to cultivate legitimate connections to that wouldn't be questioned- Lee was one of very few members of his company to think my initial presence odd. He was the _only_ one to come right out and say so. Loudly, slightly drunkenly, after a long evening spent lamenting about home.'  
  
Eggsy had a hard time imagining his father doing such a thing. Both because he barely remembered the man, and because he had spent his whole life idolising his sacrifice. He just couldn't imagine the man as anywhere near drunk or stupid enough to talk loudly about his suspicions of the new officer hanging about. With that officer anywhere close to earshot. Let alone his actual CO. But, he mused, he'd never been in a situation quite like the one Harry was describing- never been in an actual war zone, left with nothing but vague memories and hopes of survival. Maybe he _would_ be that stupid.  
  
'Lee's state of inebriation was my saving grace, as it were- no one took any further speculation about my being there as anything more than reminding Lee of his blunder. Of course, even after the mission was finished up and wrapped neatly with a bow, I made sure to take down his name and rank- he had potential, an incredible amount of it, if given the opportunity.

'So when I saw the opportunity, I gave it to him. Called up his CO, pulled some strings, and managed to get him to the other candidates within moments of the trials beginning. I haven't been on time for much beyond time-sensitive missions in my life, candidacy trials being of a far lower priority than pulling a parachute.' Haz took a moment to smile to himself, looking off to the side and obviously lost in memory. 'I never regretted it.'

'Even though he-'

'Yes, Eggsy, even though he had a wife and a young child waiting for him at home. Even though he nearly blew my cover on that mission. Even though my actions cost you a father and most assuredly set you upon the path that led you to Holborn Station.'  
  
'I was gonna say even though he fucked your chances of Arthur takin' you seriously about change an' all, but those work.'  
  
'Eggsy your father's sacrifice did nothing less than ensure the survival of the other three men present. They did not exacerbate any pigheadedness already present, merely gave him what he saw as a trump card. I'm not certain he's eve realised that it was far more of a reminder to keep fighting than to stagnate as he did.  
  
'There are tragedies alongside every step forward man has made, Eggsy; every triumph has ashes in its wake. Yet from the ashes of disaster grow the roses of success. Without Lee, in every sense of the word, there would be no you. And I think that would have been just as great a loss.'  
  
There wasn't much Eggsy could say in response to that; between the sincerity ringing in every word to the very idea that Harry had ever valued him _that much.._. let alone the myriad ways it could be interpreted.  
  
'Hey, Harry?' It was rare that Eggsy referred to the ghosts by name, that he gave in to the ever-present desperate want of connection to a man long gone. 'I know this don't mean much at this point, what with you dead an' all, but you've got to know that I don' blame you for my dad. I know he made his own choices, and I know you _gave_ him some of those choices but that don't mean you killed him. You gave him a chance, an' he took it, he did his best with it- an' yeah, he died, but it was never your fault. I wish you knew that.  
  
'Maybe... maybe sometimes I do wish I could go back and stop him from jumpin' on that grenade for mum's sake; but never for longer than it'd take me to jump on it m'self.' Eggsy thought he had more to say, but whatever they may have been were stuck in his throat. For all his progress, there were still times like this were Eggsy was convinced Harry could hear him. The real Harry; not whatever memory banks were storing the holograms, but the bodiless spirit of the man he'd longed to know; on some visceral level, Eggsy hoped Harry was proud of him. He'd never know for sure, but it was in these moments that he felt compelled to make sure at least _someone_ knew he was trying. That he remembered. Even if that someone was really a some _thing_  
  
'I think the world lost someone great when Valentine got you, Haz, but I'm gonna do my fucking best to make it worth it.'

### Chapter 12

There was only one of the Holo-Harry's that Eggsy hadn't dared do more than smile and wave at months after finding the Will. All these months later, and there was still a part of Harry that Eggsy couldn't bring himself to chat with, couldn't bring himself to follow, couldn't bring himself to be vulnerable with.  
  
He did not wear his specs into the downstairs bathroom; only went inside to dust the ridiculous amount of butterflies he didn't even know the purpose of. And maybe on some level he could pass it off as just not wanting to use the toilet in front of Harry (even if it was just a program) but Eggsy knew he what he was avoiding.  
  
Besides not wanting to relive his awful last moments with the real Harry, Eggsy didn't want to hear the sincerity in Haz's voice as he praised Eggsy's accomplishments. As he said how proud he was of Eggsy having been made Lancelot, how he was sad to be gone but proud of the legacy he'd left behind, how he'd like to teach him from beyond the grave, in whatever capacity he could manage as he had in every other iteration.  
  
Not there.

_I'll sort this mess out when I get back._  
  
Overall, Eggsy thought he'd managed to move on pretty well- mum'd stopped looking at him with pitying concern, he and Roxy hadn't had a night end with tears in a long while; even Merlin had made a comment about his looking more chipper as of late. But... maybe there was something to be said about denial and misplaced affections; latching onto false realities because you couldn't bear the truth. On the other hand fake it 'til you make it, yeah? And, considering everything, he'd made it pretty damn far- he just wasn't quite ready to make that final leap.  
  
Who was to say that going through that last bit wouldn't shut Haz down? Once the task was complete, the teaching done and shit, why would it stick around? And then Eggsy'd be right back where he started; left with nothing to do but remember and pretend to be half the man Harry'd apparently thought he was. Maybe a bit farther along with the whole moving on thing, maybe a little more broken than shattered, but still living in the cenotaph he couldn't bring himself to alter. (Eggsy refused to entertain the thought that he was _afraid_ of whatever was hiding with the butterflies. He was a bloody secret agent, he was fucking _Galahad,_ and fear could piss the fuck off.)  
  
(At least that's what he told himself)

'Alright, Eggsy, stop fucking about and just get _in there._ ' He was outside the loo, Haz bisected by the closed door with one smiling eye visible. The eye that he knew was nothing but an empty socket wherever Harry was buried. If he'd been buried. Eggsy closed his eyes and walked out the door.

Maybe next time.  
  
It eventually ended up that, as per fucking usual, Eggsy did it by accident. Half asleep, bruised and exhausted, but luckily otherwise undamaged from a week-long mission- surveillance that went wrong. He splashed some water on his face, tried to wake himself up a bit, but ended up simply bracing himself against the sink and staring blankly out the window.  
  
'Honestly, Harry; why'd you even pick me?'  
  
'I saw a man with potential, who wanted to do some good- I said as much that first day. I've certainly seen no reason to rescind that statement.' Eggsy whirled around, checking his hip on the edge of the sink, and winced a bit as he met Haz's eyes. It wasn't as if Haz was judging him, or anything- but Eggsy knew that now that he'd started this conversation there was no way he could quit and come back later. It was now or never, and now was _so_ not the time.  
  
'Dunno about that- mission went wrong, innocent people got hurt. I didn't get it done right, I fucked up- what kind of Kingsman does that make me?'  
  
'Do you think that every mission goes according to plan? That there aren't miscommunications or simple lacks of information that cause things to go haywire? Eggsy, that's simply not the reality of being an agent- if it were we wouldn't need quite so many of them.  
  
'To err is human, Eggsy. We all have faults; and the fact that you feel such immense guilt from one partially-botched mission simply proves that you're just as good a man I thought you were. It's only when one becomes complacent with loss that they lose their humanity.'  
  
 _Well, if we don't do something, nature will._  
  
Somehow, thinking of Chester King as sub-human didn't make him feel any better.  
  
'Guilt ain't gonna bring those people back, bruv.' He looked at the floor, missing the slight widening of Holo-Harry's eyes.

'But it's going to help you find better ways to accomplish tasks in the future- we all make mistakes, and to a certain extent they're the only things we can truly call our own. How one reacts to tragedy shapes how he helps to avoid it in the future. Things will most assuredly go wrong again, but not in the same way they did this time. Build from this experience, Eggsy- don't forget, or push down the hurt. Let yourself feel it, grow from it, _use_ it; the only wasted experiences are those we don't remember.'  
  
'It's gonna be pretty difficult to forget this, Haz.'  
  
'Do you know why my bathroom is full of dead things, Eggsy? It's so that I don't forget to keep living. Or didn't, I suppose; this past-tense thing is difficult. The point is that everything in this room is a reminder of the potential negative repercussions my actions could cause. Perhaps some would find it depressing, more a weight than a reminder to continue on- but I've always been of the opinion that spite is as good a motivator as anything else.  
  
'I'm unsure if I ever had the chance to tell you about Mr. Pickle- you're Lancelot, now, and that means you passed that test, but I'm not certain if you _understood_ it. Kingsman only condones the risking of one life to save another- but a Knight can only make that decision with the information he has available to him. A Kingsman must trust his organisation, his intel, his team, his handler, and his judgement in order to feel just in his actions. And even with all of those things aligned there are no guarantees.'  
  
'I know about Mr. Pickle, Haz, you don't need to-'  
  
'Mr. Pickle lived a long, happy, life- but I couldn't look at him without remembering that I was willing to sacrifice his life for a job. One where, from what I had seen, I would be making a definable difference in the world- but he was innocent. I had been willing to sacrifice an innocent life based on nothing but the instruction of my handler. When he passed, I had him stuffed and added to my then-meagre collection of butterflies as an unavoidable reminder of the limits I was pushed to in order to succeed as a Kingsman.'  
  
'You already had butterflies, then? Before Mr. Pickle you was already putting dead shit in your bathroom?'  
  
'I'm a man who needs physical reminders, Eggsy. I keep photographs and pieces of art from relatives long gone, if you lift them from the walls there's usually a date and name attached so they're never truly forgotten. I keep Sun covers in my office, where I feel secure, to display all of my successes and have records of the related missions under their main titles. I keep butterflies in the loo, where I'm vulnerable, to remind me of the innocents I've failed, so that I may endeavour not to do so again. Butterflies symbolise rebirth, you see- and every mission is a new chance to do better.'  
  
 _Or have you got him stuffed here an' all?_ Eggsy winced to himself, both at the reminder of the last things he'd said to Harry and at the realisation that he might not have been wholly inaccurate.

'Is... Is there one for my dad?' It was spoken softly, and Haz nodded slightly before gesturing toward Mr. Pickle, and then just past him, to a blue butterfly in a frame by itself. It was bright, and large, and not something you could miss- fuck knows Eggsy had spent an ungodly amount of time staring at it from the hall outside.  
  
'Papilio Ulysses, the Ulysses butterfly. When the wings are closed, they look remarkably like the bark of a tree; but when they're open and soaring about the sky... There is something to be said about seeing beauty only in action, and stability in rest. Your father was a remarkable man, and his actions are what set him apart as extraordinary.  
  
'I found this specimen on my first mission after his death, after meeting you for the first time, and knew that it was going to be his. I needed something I couldn't easily ignore, and I put it next to Mr. Pickle because I knew he was the best representation I'd encountered of sacrifice for the greater good. Of the limits Kingsman pushes and the people who are left damaged in our wake.'  
  
'What're the other frames for, then? There's a lot of bugs in here...' Now that Eggsy actually took a moment to look about, he could see that there weren't just butterflies- there were beetles and moths as well. Maybe he only framed things that flew? Only things that pupated?  
  
'There's a frame for every mission that sustained losses- whether they're in the forms of innocent lives lost or debilitating injury to an uninvolved party each frame contains a number of insects equal to the amount of innocent lives affected by my actions directly. The backs of the frames, much like those out in the rest of the house, have dates attached- names, as well, if there's only a few inside. I did my best to assist those left damaged in my wake from afar, but sometimes there was truly nothing to be done but remember.'  
  
Eggsy couldn't bring himself to speak, gazing instead around the bathroom with new eyes. There were hundreds of frames, easily a thousand bugs, (probably more, he never claimed to be good at estimating anything besides the distance from one foothold to the next) and somehow... somehow, this is what made Harry a real person. Harry had faults, he fucked up, and here was the evidence. Not just the words of a programmed ghost, or the stories on a page or from Merlin, but something he could both see and touch. He walked toward what Haz had told him was his father's frame, and reached with shaking hands to displace it from the wall.  
  
It came off easily, lighter than Eggsy had anticipated, and he nearly dropped it but instead tightened his grip on the edges of the frame. 'He knew what he was doin' y'know? My dad wasn't an idiot, he knew he wasn't as important as the mission. I don't really remember him, mum never really talked about him, but what I do know... I learned from you, and Kingsman, and the imprint he left on your lives. I know you, now, better than I did before- before Kentucky,' he swallowed roughly and cleared his throat. 'I know you, and I know it was worth it. Not for the world, maybe, but for you. For me. Maybe life woulda been easier with him in it, maybe it woulda been harder with him as a Kingsman, who knows! Who knows what kind of person I'd be if he'd been around.  
  
'I like the person I am now, Haz. For all the shit that's happened, for everything that's gone wrong and right and anywhere in between... I'm happy to be where I'm at.' Eggsy flipped the frame around, blurry eyes barely able to read the cursive on the paper backing.  
  
 _Lee Unwin, December 1997. Saved you and Merlin and James; pay attention, even when you think you have the upper hand. And check for weapons before starting an interrogation, you idiot._  
  
Eggsy chuckled, running a finger slowly over the words as a tear ran its way down his cheek.  
  


In the depths of Kingsman, Merlin’s computer gave a soft  _ ping  _ and sent an automated message that had long since been forgotten.

_ I’m the last remaining relative of this man, and would like to claim his remains. I have attached his identifications. I have little opportunity to travel to America, so please have them sent to 11 Savile Row, W1. Thank you for your service. _


	2. Chapter 2

‘Galahad, could you make your way to the Dining Room?’

‘Aye, Aye, Captain Merthur.’ Eggsy grinned at the heavy sigh from his boss before he began to make his way to the Shop.

Having Haz had been the strangest sort of blessing. On the one hand, he was reminded every day of the man that was no longer present; on the other, he was learning all kinds of new skills and the house didn’t feel so empty. It had become a kind of game, for Eggsy, to see what questions would trigger a new response. Last week he had learned about butterfly knife tricks because, apparently, Harry had once been bored enough during a surveillance mission in Nepal to see what all he could do with the thing before cutting a finger off.

The answer to that question was a lot, and Eggsy had made a note to himself to trigger that recording at least once a month. Never a bad time to learn a new skill in his line of work, after all. He’d been trying to soak up as much as he could and use it, keep some kind of two-man legacy going for the Galahad name.

After all, what were the chances of a Knight training their own replacement, as opposed to that of a fallen comrade? Even if no one else kept track, even if Harry was only remembered for his birth and death and none of the amazing things he did in between, at least Eggsy would know. He could keep the Galahad name meaning unnecessary flair and an intense need to be late- even if barely anyone noticed. If anyone did at all.

Even if it was forgotten with his own death. We're all dust in the end, it would happen eventually, but even a moment more was worth it to Eggsy, who had precious little to be proud of.

But until that point he had what seemed to be the most complex set of recordings he had ever imagined to explore. To discover what depths there were left to discover of the dead man. And, suddenly, the thought that he was gone wasn’t as sharp a pain as it used to be. Progress. Huh.

Eggsy’s glasses pinged, the nearly inaudible beep seconded by the tiny light flashing in the top right corner as he meandered down the pavement.

‘Yeah, Merthur? Can’ live without me?’

‘Eggsy, please, don’t lollygag. Straight to me, if you would.’ There was a gravitas to Merlin’s voice that he reserved for the tense moments before bombs were diffused, the near-impossible leaps between buildings, those seconds turned hours between a gunshot wound and help arriving.

‘Of course, Merlin’ He could have asked Eggsy to do just about anything in that tone and Eggsy would have complied. No hesitation, no questions- he’d have fallen apart ages ago without the man to guide him steadily.

He didn’t quite run, but he did walk briskly the rest of the way to the shop and into the fitting room, completely ignoring Dagonet’s polite nod, impatiently tapped his foot as the lift made its way downwards. He took the forced stillness to breathe, keep himself centred, and prepared himself for whatever news awaited him in Merlin’s office as best he could. There were few things that could cause the man that much distress- but Eggsy didn’t want to even entertain the possibility of another Knight fallen just as they were starting to be steady on their feet again.

‘Ah, that was rather quick of you.’ Merlin didn’t look too much worse for wear, though there was a pinch between his brows that hadn’t been there in a long while.

‘You asked.’ Eggsy said simply, shrugged a shoulder as he dragged a chair closer to Merlin’s desk and made himself comfortable.

‘I’ve asked a great many things of you, lad, but rarely do you give them to me.’ Okay, so it wasn’t dire enough to lose Merlin’s sense of humour entirely. Something Eggsy hadn’t realised he had control of loosened, and he crossed one ankle over his knee.

‘Don’ treat me like an idiot, bruv- you don’ use that tone o’voice lightly. I know when I can fuck about.’ That seemed to sober up Merlin, who straightened in his seat and turned toward Eggsy with a brow raised. ‘I’ve heard that shit one time in person- when I got stabbed in Uganda and evac was delayed. Goin’ through Harry’s old files you only used it three times- when he got shot in Cambodia, when there was that dirty bomb at the pentagon he almos’ didn’ get, and the time he went and blew his cover while in a plane with _no backup._ ’ Eggsy lifted a brow back, and Merlin raised his chin in acquiescence.

‘I did not mean to panic you, Eggsy, but something has happened and I am… well, to be frank I’m worried about how it will affect you.’

‘It’s to do with Harry, then.’ Merlin looked partially shocked but mostly proud at how easily Eggsy said it, and Eggsy was mildly offended that he thought so little of him- until he remembered just how out of it he’d been for the past year and change. ‘Did you find something?’

‘By technicality, yes- but it was more the doing of one of the programs I’ve left in the background. We’ve matched some remains- they’re in transit as we speak- I only just got to the notification, with how buried it was beneath the more time-sensitive matters.’ Merlin spoke gravely, slowly, with a kindness in his eyes that Eggsy was actively moved by. Here was the man who had lost, by Harry’s record, his oldest and dearest friend trying to offer what comfort he could.

‘We doin’ a _proper_ burial, then?’ And maybe that was a bit cruel of him, to remind Merlin that he’d objected to the empty-coffin buried on the grounds in a tucked away corner in the wake of Harry’s remains arising. _But_ , Eggsy reasoned to himself, _what else were they going to do with them_? Throw them into the ocean like some romance novel? Press them into a record? A diamond? Turn them into a tree?

Wait. This had so much potential.

‘Or,’ Eggsy cut Merlin off, who had only just begun to open his mouth to reply, ‘are we goin’ to do the fucker justice and press ‘im into somethin’ obnoxious and gaudy? They do all sorts of shit with ashes now, yeah? We could turn ‘im into a glass butterfly or some shit. Put him in the loo.’ Merlin’s jaw had remained open, had actually dropped a bit the longer Eggsy spoke.

‘Guv?’

‘I’d ask you to pardon my french, lad, but I don’t give a shit- where the fuck is this coming from?’ Eggsy laughed, hand clutched to his side, as he let his mind wrap around the reality of this situation.

He was sitting in a room, talking with his leader about turning his dearest friends’ remains into a home decoration. But, honestly, what else could be more perfect memoriam?

’What? Wanna turn ‘im into a record or something? _We already buried ‘im, Merlin_. An’ yeah, he weren’ inside that coffin, bu’ we mourned. We’ve got a place to go and respect the man- but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Harry it’s that he was a little shit of a person. An’ really, bruv, can you think of anythin’ more fitting?’ Eggsy paused, caught his breath proper, and sobered minutely as he locked eyes again with Merlin.

‘I know I live in a mausoleum or whatever, I know I ain’t changed shit about the joint and, honest, I don’t plan to. I like it, it’s grown on me, an’ I know his only legacy is here at this place. Ain’t nobody but us to remember him- Kingsman for the Knight, you an’ me for the man- so I’m serious here: do you want to turn the peacock into somethin’ useless and gaudy?’

‘God, yes. I assume you’ll house the thing? Whatever it ends up being?’ It fell out of Merlin like air from a balloon- suddenly and quickly, so much so that Merlin looked shocked himself.

‘Fuck yeah I will- ain’t like he’s got a grave to roll in, yeah? He can haunt me all he likes for suggestin’ it.’ The two shared a moment of silence, and a smile, before Merlin spoke up again.

‘I’ll admit, Eggsy, that I wasn’t sure how you’d react now that we have confirmation-’

‘I wasn’t, either.’ Eggsy cut him off, able but not particularly wanting to hear the phrase put so bluntly. ‘But, y’know, it don’t hurt as much now. I know I ain’t gonna get the chance to fix shit, I just got to live with it. I fucked up, an’ maybe I managed to do some good shit, too, but it ain’t like one crosses out the other. They’re different. Now I just have to hope I’m better than I was before, yeah?’

Somewhere, Eggsy thought he could feel Harry smiling at him.

\----

It hit Eggsy while he was drying off after a shower, somehow he instinctively lifted a leg to look at something that wasn’t there.

Something was supposed to be there, in the shadowy space of his ankle, he could see it clearly in his head. 

He couldn’t have said what caused him to draw that conclusion, but now that he’d put words to the thought it wouldn’t leave him be. 

A month later, Harry’s ashes sitting in their unremarkable casing while he and Merlin debated the end result of their machinations, he was dicking about with his mates. They’d been out drinking and Eggsy walked with them from one pub to the next, acting more sloshed than he was (as if he’d actually let himself be at less than 90% while out on the town. You never knew what could happen) when they passed a tattoo parlour and Eggsy full stopped in his tracks.

That was it. Maybe it wasn’t on (in?) his skin yet, but that’s what’d been missing that day and he was fucked if he was going to ignore it just cos he was a fucking spy. He ditched the group and walked inside, much to the amusement of the others, and grabbed a card before ducking back out.

‘You chickened out, Eggsy?’ Ryan shoved a bit at his shoulder, stumbled and Eggsy caught him quicker than he shoulda been able to- but no one noticed.  _ They’re civilians _ Eggsy reminded himself  _ they’re not going to notice if you’re too on your game. This ain’t life and death. _

‘Nah, just gonna schedule it later.’

‘Didn’t know you was into ink Eggs!’

‘Weren’t like it were really an option, mate, they’re expensive; only let myself start thinkin’ bout it serious this year.’ The former was true, and  _ technically _ the latter was as well- no need to specify that he’d only been thinking about it cos of whatever it was that made him look at his ankle. Dream? Hallucination? Either way it didn’t matter all that much to them and why was he wasting his energy justifying it to himself? People made dumber decisions than this on the regular and went about life just fine; he was allowed to get something just because he thought it would look nice- he was  _ allowed _ to commemorate this shift in his life like this.

So he put a small portion of Harry (and wasn’t that weird to think about) in a baggie and went back down to the shop a few weeks later, having exchanged several messages and images in the meantime with the artist that had caught his eye. It was bloody weird to be carrying a baggie of something so innocent, yet somehow equally taboo as the drugs he’d once had to run for Dean.

He got set up in a room containing one of the strange chair-tables that the tattoo parlour used, handed the man the baggie, and got himself settled in a position he figured his leg wouldn’t fall asleep at.

‘So,’ the artist, Keith, said conversationally and yet impersonal, ‘what made you think this shop, when you figured you were going to do this?’ He was cleaning the gun, mixing the ash in the inks and checking the stencil one last time.

‘Honest I was just wandering after a night out and saw that butterfly in the window and just. Knew. I knew I was gonna get  _ somethin’ _ and I knew where but I didn’t know exactly  _ what  _ it would be. And when you told me it was called a purple emperor? That sealed the deal. And, to be honest, I went through the shit I could find of yours online and you have loads of butterflies. An’ not just puttin’ different colours on the same shape, you got the fuzzy bits and the weird wings an’ they just looked  _ real. _ ’ Eggsy paused, looked at the hanging frames on the walls and the easel in the corner of the room, was met again and again by the kind of thing he could swear was coming off the paper. Keith smiled a bit, but didn’t make to interrupt. 

Maybe tattoo artists were the opposite of dentists, when it came to talking. They’d let you say what you needed to, when you needed to, and didn’t try to pry when you had no way to reply.

‘Harry, he was a real person. I want to remember him as a real person, with his hobbies and his passions and his faults. He had a thing for butterflies, a room full of them in boxes, and he thought he was the best thing since sliced bread- somethin’ a bit strange looking with a name like that was entirely up his alley. He felt things deeply, he cared for people even long after they’d stopped thinking about him; he did everything he could to do the right thing especially if no one ever knew it was him. And maybe doin’ this is my way of keeping us connected, even tho he’s gone, y’know?’

‘It sounds like you loved him.’ Eggsy didn’t quite know how to react to that, to having someone else so easily identify the feeling he’d only come to terms with recently. Keith shaved down the area, despite how little hair was there in the first place, and stuck the stencil with a couple fingertips.

‘Well, it was easy to.’ He was proud of his ability to hold it together in the face of that realisation. He’d loved, and he’d lost, and all that was left was for him to remember. Yeah, he’d likely love again because the world worked that way, but Harry was always going to be a part of the person he’d become. And maybe a tattoo was up there in dumbest things for a spy to have, but Eggsy needed that sense of permanence. He needed to know that he would have Harry with him always, even if no one else knew it- because of course he’d talked to a bunch of theatre kids about the best ways to cover up. What makeup to use, how to seal it in case it ended up wet, or sweat, and they’d been more than happy to share their knowledge.

He sat there for hours, not really sure of the time passing beyond the constant stream of door open, door close, and conversation from the other rooms. His artist hadn’t tried to keep Eggsy talking, had instead opted to tapping his leg to gain his attention and asking if he was still good to continue. Eggsy would give a thumbs up or a grimace with a brief shake- the latter of which he’d only done once because he needed to piss. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to watch the process. He’d counted ceiling tiles and frames, napped and hummed to himself to keep from looking down. He wanted to look down and see it done- not wonder what the finished product would actually look like once it was etched into his skin forever. He hadn’t realised just how long this would take, and was glad he’d left his specs back at the house so Merlin wouldn’t be able to tune in and see what he was doing. But, given the amount of detail he was getting done, it made sense now that he actually bothered to think about it; the pain had been an afterthought to being sure it was everything he needed it to be. So when Keith turned off the gun and wiped the area down Eggsy didn’t twitch.

‘Are you ever going to look at it?’ His eyes were closed, but Eggsy could have told you the man was exasperated from the way he was breathing.

‘When it’s done, yeah.’

‘Well it’s been done for a few minutes now- just figured I’d let you have a look before bandaging the thing.’ Eggsy startled, eyes snapping open, and sat up so quick he nearly tipped himself off. He finally let himself look down, and didn’t really have the words to describe the moment. Like a puzzle piece falling into place that you hadn’t realised was missing, or didn’t know it went where you just let your hand direct it. It was so blue it was purple, the veins on the wings somehow so life-like he coulda sworn he could feel the ridges. The orange at the base of the abdomen was bright and that weird feathery shit just. Looked so soft. The spots that he knew were white on the real deal were just places left unmarked. Gaps in the art, showing the skin beneath, and somehow Eggsy felt that was somehow better. Bits of himself shining through Harry, or just the humanity behind the imperious image he’d projected and  _ wow _ when had he let himself start thinking that deeply about shit?

But beyond that what mattered was that sense of completeness. He didn’t know if he’d ever come back for more ink, but somehow he felt like more of a person now than he had even a few hours beforehand. There was something to be said for looking the way you see yourself in your head- even when you’re not fully aware of it.

‘You don’t strike me as a man of few words, so can I take your silence as approval?’

‘I thought I knew what I wanted but you blew that shit right out of the water, mate. You’ve more than earned every penny I’m giving you- however many that is- just. Thank you.’ Eggsy didn’t know what else he could tell him, this man who had somehow just by doing his craft had realigned his sense of self, to show how grateful he was for this. But, maybe this was just another Thursday evening for him; maybe he did these kind of unassuming miracles all the time. Eggsy wondered how long it took for gratitude to somehow feel run-of-the-mill, that Keith had simply smiled and thanked him for the compliment before he stuck what felt like plastic wrap over Eggsy’s ankle and began to clean his tools. 

\---

Eggsy couldn’t stop looking at his feet, he sat at his home (for that’s what it was now) and propped his legs up just so he could see the ink better. The sticky plastic had kept it from itching too much, Keith had called it a second skin, and by the time Eggsy had pulled it off it was just about finished healing. The colours were still vibrant, it looked every bit as beautiful now as it did then and he just couldn’t resist the urge to run his fingers over and across it. Trace the wings and stroke down the thorax, flex his foot this way and that to see how the shadows played against it.

He kept it moisturised, wore long socks no matter the style of dress he was in, and managed to keep himself from injuring himself so severely as to require someone else’s assistance in dressing. For months. He’d worked hard at keeping the thing under wraps, mostly to prove that being a spy didn’t mean he couldn’t have ink, which was why it was so frustrating that Merlin pinged his glasses one morning as he was rubbing in the lotion with not so much as a by-your-leave.

‘The fuck is that?’

‘Not your business, guv.’

‘Somehow I’m disinclined to agree, seeing as I’m both the person who is in charge of your mission assignments and your livelihood while out gallivanting across the globe and  _ some _ things are hazards in the world of covert operations.’

‘I’d be inclined to agree, Merthur, sir, but I’ve had this for goin’ on six months without issue so… Your point’s been refuted. Hypothesis disproved. Any other points?’ Merlin was quiet for a moment, and Eggsy could practically see the steam bursting from his ears like Pepper-Up potion in the Potter books.

‘Dare I ask why you got a tattoo?’ Eggsy looked up from his hands, and looked straight at Haz stood at the other end of the loo. Having the hologram surrounded by the boxed butterflies, stood by the sink, made Eggsy’s heart clench still. Coming to terms with the man’s loss was one thing, but having this echo of him stood where he’d last spoken to Eggsy… it was a sight he tried to avoid. There were times that he wanted to ask what he was thinking, making such a thing, but he dreaded the answer. So he dealt with it; pushed down whatever hurt and focused on the things he’d been learning from the man.

‘Ah,’ Merlin breathed, and Eggsy imagined a balloon deflating slowly, collapsing inward. Merlin hummed a bit and did the one thing Eggsy least expected: he dropped it.

‘So I was actually calling in regards to Harry’s ashes. We’ve been debating what to do with them- I was all for a gaudy glass sculpture, or perhaps a dildo, but I was hit by a bit of inspiration last night.’ Eggsy could hear Merlin typing, and sent a question mark through the glasses chat function. ‘Patience, lad, I promise it will be worth it.’ 

Instead of a paragraph of text, which going by the typing would have made sense, Eggsy was greeted by a video file. He played it warily, and was greeted by Harry doing the worst approximation of dancing he had seen in his life. He was easily twenty years younger than Eggsy had ever known him, so a newer Knight, with so little rhythm he couldn’t help but laugh- to think the man who had decimated a church like an artist had once been all limbs and no grace.

‘Why’d you send me-’

‘Wait. Listen.’ Merlin whispered, which goaded Eggsy into silence and focusing on the music spurning such ridiculousness from Harry.  _ Yes I like piña coladas, and getting caught in the rain _

‘Oh my god.’ Eggsy breathed, not wanting to speak over the muffled music but unable to keep the thought inside his head.

‘So I stumbled across this while going through my files, a bit of blackmail material that never saw use, and figured-’

‘Press him into a record of this shit.’

‘Precisely.’

‘It’s  _ perfect _ , Merlin. You got that company’s details? I’ll send him off tonight if I can manage it.’

‘Already inbound. That video has been saved to your server, too, so you can enjoy that shit when you want a laugh.’

‘I don’ think I’ve been so happy to have dosh to drop on shit in my life.’ Sure it was an exaggeration, but in that moment nothing had felt more true.

‘... Eggsy, can I ask what butterfly you decided needed to be branded into your skin for him?’ It was a quiet, almost shyly asked, question and it was the tone of that alone that kept Eggsy from some kind of sarcastic comment.

‘It’s a Nyphalidae Apaturinae,’ Eggsy said in his best David Attenborough impression before reverting back to himself, ‘more commonly known as the purple emperor.’

Merlin cackled in his ear, and Eggsy grinned to himself. They were going to be just fine, at the end of all of this.

\---

Turned out that Harry hadn’t owned a record player at the time of his death, so when the vinyl came in Eggsy simply framed it and placed it where one of Merlin’s things used to be on the wall. That had the dual purpose of making himself look cultured, what with having a vinyl on the wall, and being a conversation piece when people asked what the vinyl was of. Which, then, gave Eggsy the pleasure of explaining that he’d had the ashes of a dear friend pressed into a song that the friend had had fond memories of. And then drop the title.

This was particularly amusing to pull with Percival, who Eggsy was building his own relationship with outside of Roxy and Kingsman. They’d go and play darts a couple times a month, and one night they’d retired to Eggsy’s house. Which, to be honest, was starting to look more like his own house- he’d stuck up some prints he’d found on the internet, though he hadn’t moved about anything and just filled in the gaps. The Office was looking more like his own, too, even though all he’d done was replace Harry’s covers with his own. 

But, more to the point, the two of them had been sitting and sharing a couple of drinks when Percival had noticed the vinyl and asked about it.

‘Oh, it’s Harry.’ There was no point in beating about the bush with a Knight, but that didn’t mean this would not be amusing without an elaborate setup.

‘I beg your  _ pardon _ ?’ It was already amusing as it was.

‘Merlin and I discussed it and, since we’d already buried that empty coffin on the grounds, we decided to do something other than bury his ashes once they were sent over. We tossed some ideas about for a long while and eventually decided to press him into a song he had some fun memories tied to.’ Percival stood from his chair and made his way to the frame, subtly pressing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he leant in to read the title text.

‘You  _ didn’t.’ _ Percival chuckled, but that quickly devolved into full-bellied laughter that Eggsy had seldom heard from the man. ‘Boy, you- you couldn’t possibly-’ he huffed between bouts of laughter, leant slightly against the wall as if he couldn’t hold himself up, ‘do you have any idea what you’ve done?’

‘It was Merlin’s idea, mostly- had some footage he was kind enough to share with me that hadn’t seen the light of day otherwise.’ Eggsy shrugged, amusement in his eyes.

‘ _ There’s footage?!’  _ This reignited the laughter, and Eggsy couldn’t help but join in despite not knowing the full reason for Percival’s amusement.

‘I was there, that night. I bore witness to that spectacle, and I simply want to make one thing very clear to you: he was entirely sober, barely half a whisky coke in him- he was so excited that you’d swear he was an American when Sweet Caroline plays in a bar.’ Percival had caught his breath, but this set Eggsy off.

Here he was, sitting in his house that felt way more like a home, laughing with a man he never would have paid mind to outside of this bizarre life he had fallen into.

‘So, Perc-’

‘Please, it’s Alistair.’

‘Alistair, then- you’re in on the joke, now. Don’ spoil it for anyone else. Want to have my bit of fun with this place, yeah?’ Eggsy raised his glass for a toast, and Percival tapped the rim of his own.

‘To peacocks and piña coladas.’

\---

A year and change on from Harry’s vinyl resting place, Eggsy could safely say that he’d managed to trigger all of Haz’s different recordings. He’d learned about thirty different mixed drinks from the bar, how to make a hearty stew that he said was a Hart tradition, could use nunchuks and butterfly knives and fence and a thousand other skills he had only ever seen in films. He treated Haz like the kind of benevolent spectre who was there to help the space feel more alive as opposed to less so.

So when, on a Thursday afternoon, Haz cleared his throat Eggsy was suitably startled. That was a noise that Harry simply did not make often, in his experience with the hologram and plethora of Kingsman mission recordings.

‘Eggsy, I need you to do something for me.’ Harry’s face was sombre, and that more than anything set alarms off in Eggsy’s brain.

‘Of course, Harry- anything.’ There was no need to think about how true that was.

‘If you could, open the server door-’ Eggsy did so, the process now as familiar to him as breathing, ‘and run your finger along the right edge until you feel a dip-’ Eggsy found it, feeling the imprint of the top of a Kingsman signet ring at the base of it and pressed his ring to the space before Haz could instruct him to do so. Another panel of the wall sprung open, revealing a keyboard.

‘I need you shut me off, Eggsy.’ Eggsy froze, looked between the keyboard and the sheepish, intangible, Harry standing in the centre of the room with lips parted and downturnt. ‘If this recording is playing, then I’ve managed to teach you everything I sought to. You’ve found all of the pieces I tried to scatter about, and it’s been long enough that the sting of my death should have faded to a dull ache.

‘I’ve accomplished what I was put here to do, Eggsy- you’re an accomplished Knight in your own right at this point. You have more to your life than the remnants of a dead man, and you need to let me go.’

‘I don’ know if I can do that, Haz. How the fuck am I supposed to be in this place without you?’

‘You’ve been doing that for a while now, Eggsy- this could only be triggered after a solid sixty days of inactivity.’ He couldn’t help but open his mouth to argue with the dead man, but nothing came out. It was true, he realised; he had been living with Haz but not thinking about him for a long while, now, and… and he didn’t need that anymore. He had so much more of the man, now, than the transparent projection in front of him.

‘Do I have to?’

‘One never  _ has _ to do anything- but I do ask that you do so. I ask that you turn off this elaborate scheme and let yourself  _ live _ .’ Eggsy walked to the keyboard and stood before it without truly seeing it, but couldn’t bring himself to lift a hand.

Merlin pinged, and Eggsy had never been so grateful to be interrupted.

‘What’re you doin’ Eggsy.’

‘Turning Haz off, apparently.’

‘And how long have you known how to do that?’ Merlin was slightly judgemental, which Eggsy could understand to an extent but Merlin wasn’t him. He didn’t know what it had been like, because they’d had different experiences and that was okay- but it still hurt a bit.

‘Approximately 5 seconds. Actually, I still don’t know how- he was telling me when you rang.’ There was no apology, but Eggsy hadn’t expected one from the man. Instead he turned back to Haz, not bothering to hang up on the wizard, ‘How?’ 

He couldn’t help but try to drink the visage in, let his eyes linger over his form, knowing it would be the last time he did so. Merlin, thankfully, remained silent, but Eggsy was thankful for his bearing witness.

‘It ends as it began, Eggsy- with the medal.’ Eggsy nodded and began to type in the phrase, ‘Oxfords, not brogues,’ he muttered to himself. A tear he hadn’t realised was forming fell down his cheek, and he’d never been happier that the only recording equipment in his spaces were the glasses. No one else would know. 

‘Just so, Eggsy.’ He hesitated before hitting the enter key, trying desperately to keep it together and not give away just how much this was affecting him. He breathed, slow and even, refused to allow his hand to tremble, mentally thanking Harry for teaching him how to control himself even in these minute ways.

He hit the key.

‘Thank you, Eggsy, for doing this last thing for a long dead man. But, dead or not, I want you to understand how proud of you I am. You’ve suffered a great many losses, myself notwithstanding, and yet you continued to fight and demand acknowledgement- and you’ve long since earned your spot at the Table.

'I am so proud of you, Eggsy; of the man you’ve become in my absence. I may not be there, but know that I’m proud of you. So very, very, proud. Goodnight, Eggsy.’ 

Haz began to flicker.

‘Goodnight, Harry.’

**Author's Note:**

> If you laughed, or cried, let me know. 
> 
> 1- emotional manipulation is crack for writers. 
> 
> 2- I made myself do both while writing this, and would like to know I'm not alone in that reaction.
> 
> 3- I wrote what is probably my favourite ridiculous phrase in this story- I'd love to see if you guys can guess it!
> 
> As always, find me on tumblr at [AgentDagonet](http://www.agentdagonet.tumblr.com)


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